


Cataclysm

by WorldofBubbles



Series: Defiance [2]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Companion Piece, Dubious Consent, Sexual Abuse, Sometimes consensual sometimes questionable, Stand Alone, The Titanomachy (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Titans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2020-07-29 03:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20075629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorldofBubbles/pseuds/WorldofBubbles
Summary: Throughout the eons, many events have thrown the world back into the throes of Chaos. Only the Titanomachy, however, is all Rhea's doing. Companion to Defiance.





	1. Prologue

_All things truly wicked start from innocence._

_\--Ernest Hemingway_

* * *

"Any last words?"

It takes much effort for Kronos to lift open his eye - the swelling having yet to fade - and display the utter contempt with which he regards his son. Yet the malicious Titan manages still.

The blade of his own scythe brushes against his neck, sharper than any other substance known to man. Faintly, Kronos wonders how it will cut into his skin. It tore apart Ouranos like butter, as he recalls. To him it is bound to do the same.

With pursed lips, he studies Zeus. Kronos had been a fool not to recognize him when he first presented himself on Mount Othrys. For in the light he looks like Kronos from a thousand years ago – the young immortal who had castrated his own father and thrown the universe asunder.

Yes, the Fates had always told the Titan Lord that one of his progeny were bound to follow in his footsteps. He glances at his other children standing fast behind their new tyrant, somber faces darkened by their time spent in the pit that was their father's belly.

_Craven little bastards_, he muses, _they would not have last a day against merciless Ouranos_.

"Only a few, but not for any of you," Kronos snorts, masking the desire to curl his lips into a snarl, rip the very flesh off his own son's face with sharpened teeth.

He tears his eyes away from Zeus, turning his fury on the uninterested Titaness cowering at the edge of the gathered gods. Perhaps she thought herself unnoticeable but that had never been the case for Kronos, not even in his grandest of moments. He fixated on her always.

"Look at me, Rhea."

Her eyes – alien green and the spitting image of Gaia – snap to attention, narrowing in a way that could kill a thousand creatures with a single stroke. She lowers the hood of her cloak, steeling herself against him.

But the gaze of Kronos is nothing to be taken lately either – not when pain and rage swirl together in pools the color of ichor. He is almost pleased when she flinches.

"I want you to look at what you've done. I want my blood to haunt you throughout the eons."

Perhaps, when they recount the stories that led to this night, they will always mark her as a bystander in the universe’s conflicts. But Kronos, even from the depths of Tartarus, will know better.

_All of this was her doing. _

Her bottom lip trembles slightly, for only a second. But it is enough for him, to see that knife twist in her gut: the guilt of betrayal. Her face hardens once more and she comes forward to stand beside her youngest son. "May Tartarus welcome you with open arms."

Kronos only smiles. Her words hurt but his words have hurt her too and that is enough for creatures like him.

"Do it now," says a small voice from behind Rhea. A small goddess in a hooded brown robe, blazing eyes like a fire. Sweet Hestia, the eldest of his children. "Let it be done."

Kronos bursts into a fit of laughter just as the scythe lops off his head.


	2. Caged Bird

When her light shines into existence, sprung from the aperture of her mother’s womb and given life by beloved and dreaded Chaos, Rhea knows who she is:

The blood of Gaia, Earth-mother, and starry Ouranos the sky-lord. She is as beautiful as her namesake suggests, born with only two legs, two arms, two eyes, and the powers deserving of a Titaness – much to her mother’s relief. Rhea, of course, is too young, too new, to know why anything else is such a danger.

But she is quick to learn.

In the days she waddles across the earth – Gaia’s hovering hand to guide her – Rhea meets her sire. Ouranos sits amongst the silver clouds, fists clenched, face as blank as stone. He must study all new additions to the world he so meticulously keeps in line and Rhea is no exception.

His eyes are not kind and she knows immediately that he does not care for her.

Gaia does.

“Too much,” says her elder sister, Phoebe, when a few years have passed and young Rhea has grown more. She is to be taken away to be raised on Othrys – a mountain so far in the distance Rhea would need to sit upon her father’s lap to even catch a glimpse of it.

“Othrys,” her mother spits back. “I suppose you control it now with Koios. But, in a decade, you will lose your seat, only for Krios to claim it back. Or Iapetus. Or Hyperion.”

She should be doomed to the same fate of warring Titans attempting to reclaim a desolate pile of rock; Ouranos above it all, laughing at such a spectacle.

“She is too gentle for war,” Gaia affirms in her boundless wisdom. “I will raise her alone. You have no need of her.”

And so Phoebe leaves with empty hands.

And so Rhea stays.

Gaia tells her there is no reason to leave this place. The Earth Mother’s nomadic ways have been put to rest – they have everything they need in the plains, she says. Rhea, of course, agrees. She doesn’t yet know any better.

Rhea looks out to the blue pond at the center of her territory. She marks the hills towards the west and sea to the east, signifying its limits. Rhea finds herself resigned to it – this is the parcel of land she has been given and the parcel on which she will remain.

Centuries pass and she will refuse to think beyond it. She has no reason to.

* * *

Rhea was born on a midsummer’s day, wailing beneath the slaving sun. And beneath the sun she can always be found, lounging on beds of wildflowers. Even her faithful lions distance themselves from their Titaness to find shelter at this time of day, unable to tolerate the heat. The same can be said of any other immortal beings frolicking around the grassy plains, as she is more than sure Hyperion would revel in setting anyone’s skin to burn.

But this is her home and the heat is like a blanket, a comfort that even Gaia’s womb had never provided.

_Mother._

Rhea bolts upright. She stares at the sky, unable to judge quite how much time has passed. Time here either crawls at a leisurely pace or sprints at breakneck speeds. The air though, she realizes now, is too still for her liking. She can hear not one creature rustle for miles.

Rhea knows what that means.

She runs, a gazelle zipping through the grass. The wind rips through her hair, rocks cut at the soles of her feet. Yet she continues still, never slowing until she can spot her thatched home in the distance.

Rhea hesitates when it comes into view. Unnatural dust clouds swarm about the abode expertly crafted of thorny vines and mudbrick – a hobble compared to the grand fortresses her sisters occupy. The silence weighs heavily on her. Every nerve in her body screams at her to run away.

A crash comes from inside and Rhea dives for the door, throwing it open with a slam. But she goes no farther than that, a god blocking her entrance. A god with ashen skin, dressed in flaming robes and rattling bone armor. His eyes – a molten silver – burn holes in the girl's skull. He is no ordinary god, only hellfire made flesh.

She collapses at his feet. Her wailing drifts towards the merciless heavens unheard. Something in his eyes suggests that he would smile. Otherwise, emotionless, he steps over and sweeps out the door, nothing but a shadow.

Gaia does not take long to find her.

"Rhea, you know not to look at him!" She gathers her in her arms as any mother would but the Primordial's face darkens in a manner unbecoming of such. "But you never do listen, you stupid girl. I told you to stay by the pond."

Rhea’s eyes linger on the gray mottled around her mother’s neck, suspiciously in the shape of a hand. "He always comes after you fight with father," she musters out through gritted teeth. Her fists clench into Gaia’s already tattered skirts. "He leeches onto your pain. Stop opening your legs for him. Stop feeding him."

"Stop questioning me," Gaia sneers all the same as she pulls Rhea to her feet. The girl recoils, arms tucked in tight to her chest.

Gaia’s chagrin does not relent. "You're only a baby. What do you know of Chaos, the abyss? Of darkness and loneliness, of tireless work in bringing everything into Creation? You know nothing, girl. Absolutely nothing." She shakes her head and her gaze drifts to the open door. "Neither does your father. He wasn't there either, none of you lot of fools were. But Tartarus was. And so Tartarus will forever remain by my side, whether I want him there or not."

"If you cannot stomach fools cast me aside then,” she says boldly and with no consequence. “But we both know you never will."

Two pairs of narrowed green eyes meet each other head-on. Gaia remains silent.

"You do it because you never want to be lonely again,” Rhea continues. “Know that I can so easily choose to leave. Know that I can leave you here to rot."

Gaia slaps her hard enough to shake the earth around them. Rhea blinks, feeling her tears welling up but wills them not to fall.

The earth goddess takes a menacing step forward, her final blow yet undelivered. "Little Rhea fancies herself a woman now, does she? Yet I know a baby's words when I hear them. Just what I expect from you. But if you want to go? Go then."

The girl turns on her heels, bolting through the door once more just as her mother shouts, "You're bound to come back! You always do."

She doesn't get very far. Rhea passes the pond just as a black reptile slithers before her feet, tripping her in one fluid motion. She crashes into a bed of rocks, skinning her knees. The girl doesn't even bother to wipe away the ichor leaking out. Grabbing clumps of broken stones, she flings it in its direction. But the basilisk is long gone by then.

The girl groans, face towards the sky. Perhaps she imagines her lofty sire up there, hair black as the night and sky-blue eyes radiating a frigidness Rhea has never quite known. Perhaps he's watching her now, laughing at her.

"You can try praying to him but he'll never answer."

She snaps her head towards the sound of a man's voice, stumbling back in her haste. Not once has a visitor come to these fields without seeking Gaia’s permission first and she cannot understand what this means.

Rhea pauses.

He is more boy than man, she corrects. His proud, smooth jaw is the testament to his youth. He lacks the trimmed beards of her Titan brothers.

But he _is_ a Titan.

Rhea can feel it in her bones. He fails to exude the frightening yet weary aura of a Primordial like Tartarus or Ouranos. Yet he is powerful all the same – a little recognizable flicker that calls out to her very own.

He sits back in the knee-high grass, garbed in a dark yet lightweight tunic that leaves little to the imagination. She would think him Ouranos with his warrior’s chest and regal face; his hair is dark enough and his skin fair enough, as well. But his eyes…

Gold.

Like the ichor running through her veins.

He speaks again in that voice: a deep timbre, quiet, inquisitive. But laced with a darkness Rhea herself cannot yet fathom.

"I never knew I had another sister." The look in his eyes, however, suggests more than mere curiosity.

"Nor I." Her own voice trembles. "A brother that is. But it is rare that Gaia allows me to leave."

"A shame. I would never forget a pretty face like yours."

_Fool_, Rhea chides herself. _You studied him for too long_. She stands, hiding her clammy hands behind her back. "I must head back. Before mother worries."

A lie. One he sniffs right away.

Kronos makes no move to get up. "Do you really want to go back there?" says he, flashing a lazy yet knowing grin.

She finds herself leaning in this time, not away. Her own question seems to burn right through her:_ just how much does he know? _

He speaks again before she can respond. "Stay a little longer, let me drink in your radiance a bit more. This is an opportunity I will not waste."

“You don’t even know my name,” she snaps.

“Do you know mine?”

“No. Should I?”

“Perhaps,” he muses, “someday I may very well be a well-endowed lord.”

It is her turn to smirk. “Careful, or our brothers may very well catch wind of such treacherous words.”

Isolated but not ignorant. Oceanus is the eldest of the Titans, his domains encompassing the seas encircling their homeland. The land remains split between their four warring brothers: Koios to the north, Krios to the south, Iapetus to the east, and Hyperion to the west. There is no room for any other and they will not take kindly to a young, undisciplined immortal seeking his own rule.

His eyes only darken at the sight of her feline expression. “Smart girl.” She wavers a bit, fearing she has made him more enamored. “Your name?”

The Titaness chews on the inside of her lip before responding. “Rhea.”

“Like the flow of a river. Tranquil on the surface – a good deception for the current underneath.”

_A current, yes_, she nearly tells him. _But you can neither see its depth nor magnitude_. “And what do I call you, brother?”

A gentle wind flows in from the east, coaxing a shiver despite the sun beating down on them. His silence holds for what seems like an eternity, a much longer pause than her own.

“Kronos.”

* * *

Rhea cannot recall the last time Sky and Earth joined. They must have reunited once before, when she could hardly walk and Gaia had sent her to the sky palace of noble Aether and graceful Hemera.

Though the progeny of the sky-father, Rhea had never felt at peace amongst the heavenly clouds. It was the Earth she longed for, having never been separated from Gaia’s breast until that moment.

But Hemera had laid a gentle hand on Rhea’s tear-stricken face, telling of Gaia’s predicament in bringing forth a new babe. It was then that little Rhea feared being replaced, trapped in the heavens forever, until Hemera offered her assurances.

_No one could ever replace _you.

And it must have been true, for upon her return, this babe Hemera had spoken of was gone with the wind, leaving no trace of its existence.

“When will I meet her?” Rhea had asked while being scooped up into her mother’s arms.

Gaia, in her wisdom, had already known what the girl was alluding to. “He is fortunate to have passed Ouranos’s test. Theia came to take him away.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Did I pass the test?”

And Gaia had laughed at her. “Yes, little one. But you are here because you are very special to me.”

Rhea had been pleased with that answer and she hadn’t spared her new Titan brother a second thought.

Until now: golden eyes that haunt her dreams, the first of many. And, after a night of poor sleep, she is far from content sitting at her mother’s side outside their hobble.

“It’s easy,” Gaia insists, the wind flowing through her black tresses, her golden hand worming through freshly tilled soil.

“There is no point to this exercise,” the young Titaness utters in her frustration. She has no time for these lessons that bore her, not when she can be out in the fields running wild and free away from her mother’s hovering gaze. “I cannot do all the things that you can. Best to leave at that.”

“And I have no need for your abilities to surpass my own, Rhea,” her mother soothes, though her stern tone is only a breath away, ready to reprimand at a moment’s notice. “Do not make such a comparison. Otherwise, you will always be doomed to fail. So long as you are competent in mastering the little gifts I gave you, that is enough.”

Rhea rolls her eyes. “I suppose you want me to try again.”

“Again.”

She starts, slowly this time, touching her fingers to her lips. The Titaness heaves a gentle sigh, taking from the reservoir of magic beneath her flesh, so much of it still so untouchable and locked away within, and breathing it into her palm. It swirls, sparks, volatile and untamable. Just like her.

_Just like me._

Rhea worms her fingers into the dirt again, eyes shut.

“Good,” says Gaia. “Focus. Feel the world – feel _me _– beneath you. I will always be there, ever permanent.”

She hardly listens, her mother’s voice as distant as the wind. Her essence descends, searching, searching…

_Found_.

With all her might, she heaves her claws back to the surface. Glittering crystals burst forth from the ground.

Rhea beams. “There. Are we done?”

Gaia’s eyes shimmer. For a moment, Rhea thinks it might be a mother’s pride that she sees, certainly a rare sight from the Earth Mother. But it disappears when she looks to the sky.

At the sound of Gaia’s short intake of breath, Rhea follows her mother’s gaze to the horizon beyond. Thin clouds swirl – a mixture of red and gray – into a funnel formation, reaching out towards the earth. 

“What is it?”

It takes Rhea a moment to realize the strange formation moving across the landscape – getting _closer_.

“Ouranos.”

Gently, she touches her mother’s shoulder. “I don’t understand. Is he angry with you?”

Gaia purses her lips, eyes still on the wild horizon. “Your lesson for today is over.” She stands and helps Rhea to her feet. “You must leave and I must… prepare.”

“For?”

The goddess opens her mouth as if to answer but quickly decides against it. “_Go_,” she says finally.

Still Rhea lingers, confused and a bit hurt at being left out on the plains. Even though she had desired such a thing but moments ago. “Where?”

“Far,” is her mother’s only answer before the door closes on her.

The funnel grows closer. Rhea’s jaw clenches at the sight. With arms crossed, she heads towards it, though aware it was Gaia’s intention to have her run in the opposite direction.

Her heart thunders in her chest as she grows near. Not even a half-mile off and the wind whips through her hair, sends it flying.

Inside the funnel, the clouds thicken and a face appears. Though formless, lacking in definition, it seems familiar. She has seen him in her own noble features, small details she couldn’t quite place until now.

Ouranos.

Without warning, the hem of her skirt lifts off the ground. Rhea pushes it down as quickly as she can. But, before she can wonder if it was his intention, the face of her father disappears back into the center of the whirlwind.

Skin crawling, Rhea finally sprints towards the pond. She curses out her frustration, her exhaustion.

“I would not think such words befitting a lady such as yourself.”

The Titaness slowly turns her head to find Kronos seated by the lakebed. She cannot say she is excited to see him, but at least there will be a witness if the Sky-father comes for her. It isn’t a true comfort for Rhea – Ouranos can do whatever he wants and he is rarely deterred once his mind is set on something – but it is the only one that can be mustered up on such short notice.

“You again.” She purses her lips. “Does mother know that you’re here?”

“Contrary to what you may think, Gaia does not make it a habit to keep an eye on her children. We are too far and too numerous.” The full weight of his gaze settles on her. “She rather put most of her attention on you. Though I would not blame her.”

Her cheeks burn and she loathes him for it. “Why are you here?”

“The Earth whispers to me.”

Rhea scoffs before Kronos can elaborate. _A superstitious fool_. Of course, she has never doubted her mother’s prophetic powers before, having heard them from Gaia’s very own mouth on more than one occasion. But she was never one to breathe in sulfurous smoke from volcanic vents in the ground in an attempt to perform her very own palm reading.

His eyes narrow. “And why are _you _here? Why be out here all on your own without our mother in-toe? From what I gather, you seem distressed when she is not in the vicinity.”

“She would not tell me,” Rhea answers, too perplexed to be offended by her brother’s last statement. “Something about… Ouranos. About preparing for his arrival.”

His eyes shutter with realization. “I see.”

Rhea kneels, leaning in closer to him. Her voice softens. “I don’t…”

A smile tugs at his lips. “The Sky yearns to embrace his woman, the Earth Mother,” he says slowly, as if it should be apparent. “It is very clear why she did not want you around for that.”

Her eyes widen and her embarrassment is far more apparent than before. _Little fool, in more ways than one. _“I—”

“The maiden of the Phrygian plains,” he cuts her off with a chuckle. Kronos leans back to survey her. “She is a true maiden after all.”

Rhea finds it difficult to look at him when he says this. Her eyes take to the sky instead – now having faded into hues of orange as the sun dips below the horizon at a leisurely pace, purple clouds creeping forth as Nyx comes to set the world to rest. All of it a rare sight to behold.

“It’s beautiful in a way,” she admits with cheeks still flushed. “Hyperion and Helios can take their time now that father is… occupied.”

Kronos says nothing further, but she can feel his stare.

* * *

And so Earth and Sky join once more. And once, as Gaia had told her long ago upon Rhea’s first flowering, is all it takes.

It is not long before Gaia’s belly swells with new life. And, though it is Gaia who will be a mother once again, it is Rhea who finds herself reinvigorated.

She volunteers to perform the errands in the Primordial’s stead: traveling along time-worn routes to spring up trees and flowers, gathering ingredients for spells, teleporting to Theia or Phoebe’s domains bearing messages. The tasks vary by day, but the nights do not.

Rhea returns by nightfall, taxed by her travels but determined to keep to her ritual. Gaia remains in bed, having spent most of the day at rest, though her hands continue to weave new creations into existence.

Rhea sits by her side, her hands creeping to her mother’s stomach to feel the lively movements of her unborn sibling. The life within always seems so eager to greet her.

“Why I send you so far and wide,” Gaia muses. “It’s never so active when you are gone.”

Rhea only smiles. “Perhaps he likes me more.”

“Perhaps.” Gaia raises a brow. “He?”

She nods, confident in her reveal. “Watch.”

Her mother hums, but no argument comes. This is the most peace the two have had in years. “I fear that when you become a mother you will put the rest of us to shame.”

Rhea holds Gaia’s gaze. “When he comes do not send me away. I would be by your side.”

“Little Rhea fancies herself a woman now.” Her words lack their bitter edge compared to the last time Rhea heard them. “Very well.”

She makes good on her vow.

The labor lasts for three days and three nights, with Gaia’s bloodletting screams just as relentless.

The Earth trembles all around them. Rhea keeps a hand on her mother’s belly, while her eyes remain glued to the widening space between her mother’s thighs. The ichor flows in waves and Rhea remains mildly horrified until a hand greets her.

And another.

And another.

And then a dozen more at least.

With one last groan, the babe slips out from between Gaia’s bloody thighs and Rhea catches him. The ichor stains her hands and his stormy cries are deafening, but the girl doesn’t care. Even past all the limbs and heads she only sees perfection. 

She turns back to Gaia. “You did it, mother. A boy.”

The goddess chuckles as she lies back down into the mat. “We did it, Rhea.”

She watches her mother for the rest of the day – listens to her as well – as Gaia shows Rhea how the babe is nursed, and soothed, and held, and coddled. She listens as her mother tells her stories of Rhea as a babe, so incredibly demanding but sweet.

“I shall name him Briares,” Gaia says after a time, when the promise of sleep has dulled their speech and already claimed Rhea’s new brother.

“Briares,” the Titaness nods, her own body growing heavy. Finally realizing that she has not rested for days. But, on this rare occasion, she feels at peace. Almost as if whatever trouble that had once brewed between her and Gaia has now been mended.

But a peace not destined to last.

It takes only a day for Gaia to weaken. She stays close to the bed, never moving more than a few steps and only to grab a hold of Briares. But there comes a point where even that proves too difficult and Gaia cannot stand at all.

A nervous Rhea flutters around the home like a hummingbird. “The weather outside is strange today, mother,” she says in the doorway of their home, the entrance cracked to catch a peek of the world beyond these thin walls. Her brother lies cradled in her arms, still dozing.

Her mother says nothing, her eyes already half-closed.

“The sky is black,” she continues, attempting to ease the constant waves of anxiety plaguing her in the face of Gaia’s strange affliction. “It’s too early for Erebus and Nyx to ascend. Phoebe has yet to stir the moon to action.”

“Get inside. Stay close,” the goddess murmurs, sickness slurring her words together.

More dutiful than normal, Rhea shuts the door, her frown a permanent fixture on her face. “Is something wrong?”

Her eyelids flutter as she tries to sit up. “The blackened sky – it is Ouranos’s decree.” Her mother lets out a little moan of pain. “The babe is not to his standards.”

_The test. He has not passed the test._

“What does that mean?” She skitters to Gaia’s side, placing a free hand on her forehead. “Mother, you’re burning.”

The goddess tries to slap her hand away but her arm falls without warning, lacking in energy. “He gives me the fever. Ensures I cannot fight back,” she sneers, though having since lost her bite. “Do not fight him, Rhea. For your sake and mine.”

“Who—”

The door cracks open, straight down the middle. Rhea screams and her fright is not entirely unfounded. Stepping through the threshold, his gaze still as terrible as from the day of their last meeting, comes Tartarus.

“Why is he here?” she retorts, throwing herself back against the furthest wall. “Why has he come back?”

Gaia offers no response.

The dark Primordial cranes his head at the hundred-handed child.

“_No_,” she blurts out. Rhea cradles the baby on her hip, her clawed hand outstretched and pulsing with a golden light. “No, I won’t let you!”

In the timespan of a blink, Tartarus appears before her suddenly and grabs her wrist. _Hellfire made flesh_. The contact singes her to the bone and Briares is torn away before she can retaliate. Her brother screeches. His hundred arms flail, hands grasping for Rhea, for Gaia, but to no avail. Without giving any thought to self-preservation, she dives at Tartarus.

A single point of his finger stops Rhea in her tracks. The walking void finally sets his withering glare upon her. 

Rhea’s bloodcurdling screams cut through the plains for miles, loud enough that even Ouranos must finally hear her. _This is the worse than the last time, _she thinks before the pain reaches a point where words are beyond her. _It has to be worse._

Her body trembles as if caught in its own earthquake. The air in her lungs turns to sulfur and she chokes on her own screams.

Gaia vaults up from her bed. “Tartarus, please!” She falls to his feet – not that would have had the strength to stand otherwise – and clenches at his scorching robes. “Spare her, please,” she begs and Rhea has never seen someone as resilient as the Earth Mother brought so low. “Do what you came here to do and be gone!”

His hand lowers and the convulsions cease.

Gaia collects Rhea in her arms and weeps. “I’m sorry. I should’ve sent you away,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Tartarus steals one last thing before parting ways with them: a single tear dripping down the goddess’s cheek.

Just as he dematerializes, Rhea sits up, gasping. “The child, mother. Briares.”

Gaia shuts her eyes in frustration, clenched fist pressed against her chest as if she knows her next words will go unheard. “Rhea. Don’t.”

She stumbles out from their hobble, away from the goddess, her mind a fog of pain. She hardly registers her mother crying after her.

At one-point, Rhea must have collapsed because, in the next second, she finds herself on all fours, unable to move, screaming for Tartarus. For Briares.

Rhea climbs to her feet again, clings to whatever strength she has buried deep down, and runs. She cannot be sure where to: Tartarus is no longer in her line of sight and she herself has never journeyed to the Underworld.

_But I have to try._

She does not get far when a boom sounds across the nighttime sky. A load drops into the plains before her and she throws her hands up to shield her eyes from the dust kicked up in its wake.

“Rhea,” says a familiar voice. Hands wrap around her forearms. “Don’t go any farther.”

Kronos.

Her head whirls, still stinging. “Tartarus. If he returns to—”

“Let him be,” he says, his voice firm. “Follow them, try to interfere, and Ouranos will brand you as a traitor. That’s even _if _you can outsmart dreadful Tartarus. Either path ends with you burning in the Pit alongside them.”

“I care not!” she hisses, struggling against him. “Unhand me!”

“Don’t be foolish. Gaia would not want this; it is why she sent me running after you,” he speaks quickly, though his explanation does nothing to placate her. “You will _stay_,” Kronos snaps finally.

She bristles. “And who are _you _to decide what I do? A _coward_.”

He jaw clenches. “Rhea…”

“Only a coward would do nothing. You sit by as a brother of yours—” she, of course, doesn’t miss the small sneer that permeates his lips in suggesting their relation to the hundred-handed child “—is taken by that _thing _on the orders of our sire. That I cannot forgive.”

The anger fades and a wall goes up, cloaked at first with an emotion she does not recognize. “What would you have me do, little one?”

“Anything but stare at me with…” Rhea conflates a little, her voice dipping into barely more than a whisper. “With pity.”

Kronos shakes his head. “You should not love them. To be loved is not their fate.”

_And yet I will all the same, _she wants to tell him, but the words stick in her throat. She falls to her knees, her arms wrapped around her chest so that every reverberation of a sob she can feel it twice-fold. To wallow in that pain – exactly as Tartarus would want.

Kronos kneels before her and she is not sure why she finds comfort in this. Rhea feels his fingers lightly tap the edge of her jaw, signaling her to look at him. “Be at mother’s side. Soothe her loss with your return before she rips this world apart at the seams.”

Rhea does not have to energy to be ashamed of the tears lining her eyes. “She would be right to do so.”

“Soothing her anger does not mean she will forget.” He leans in to whisper in her ear. “The child was not the first to be banished to the Pit. Noble blood or otherwise. But, perhaps, he will be the last.”

* * *

Rhea has never seen Gaia with Kronos. Nor has she seen him in her home, and perhaps for good reason.

She keeps her eyes averted, her attention drawn to avoid Gaia’s wrath. She decides to mend the holes in her gowns – no matter how small – in an effort to keep herself busy. None of it helps as Rhea feels his eyes glued to her every move.

Rhea muzzles the part of herself that wishes to scream at him to leave, that she has not forgiven him for Briares’s abduction and he has no right to be near her let alone look at her ever again. But the sane voice in her head reminds her that he is Gaia’s guest. Though for what purpose, she cannot say.

He is not the only one who comes.

It is Iapetus first. He must be her eldest brother, Rhea thinks, for he is so large. Large enough to grab her by the skull and crack it open like a nut. But he pays her no mind – he brushes past her without greeting, following Gaia into the next room far away from nosy Titan girls – and for that Rhea is grateful.

He leaves all the same.

It is only the beginning of the stream of visitors:

Oceanus comes next and also ignores her. Then Hyperion, who looks at her with such clinical curiosity it is as if he is trying to picture how she might look set aflame. Koios she finds the opposite; his visit must be the shortest of them all but the goose flesh rises up and down her arms for several hours later. Krios follows, his glinting black eyes sparkling with a hunger she has never seen before. To be quenched by no food, no water on Gaia’s earth. It is a look that makes her cheeks warm and guts tighten. 

She cannot run away fast enough, despite the piles of quartz sprouting within her home. _Gaia always leaves behind quartz when she’s scheming, _her elder sister, Theia, once told her. Whatever these schemes are, Rhea is clearly not privy to them.

None of her brothers ever return to her home, save Kronos.

Sometimes he arrives too soon for mother to notice, her gaze on the blue sky with too much trepidation. And sometimes she forgets Rhea seated in the corner tending to flowers, in her room counting lions’ teeth.

But Kronos never forgets. No matter how many words are whispered in his ear by Gaia, no matter how many times Rhea moves and tries to ignore him, his gaze tracks her. The foreign flames that ignite within her are perhaps a hundred times worse than whatever Hyperion might have had in mind.

Though she is a fool to assume Gaia _never _notices their behavior.

“Why does Kronos look at you as if you’re the answer to all of his problems?” Gaia asks her one night when Rhea has set herself to growing moonlace just outside their entrance. “I do hope your maidenhood is still intact.”

She rips her hand free from the dirt, color rising in her cheeks. “My maidenhood is none of your concern,” she retorts. “Who am I to keep him from staring? Who am I to know what foolish thoughts are floating about in his imagination?”

Gaia only hums. A spire of glowing metal punches straight through the topsoil, startling Rhea. It reeks of the Earth’s core.

“What is that for?” she asks but isn’t at all surprised to meet Gaia’s glare.

“None of your concern,” her mother affirms. “Tend to your flowers and tend to your lions. If Kronos decides to start staring again, make yourself scarce. We have business to attend to and I need him focused.”

“It’s not my fault!”

“I never said it was, yet my words still stand.”

Gaia returns inside, remaining there for what seems like ages. Day and night, she spares not even a glance Rhea’s way, hunched over the unknown metal pulled from the ground, melting it, molding it.

So many weeks pass that Rhea has difficulty keep count. Until one morning the metal is gone. She prays it’s a sign that her life will finally return to normal.

Before the dawn even rises, Gaia orders her to vacate the house. Rhea protests, of course, but her mother becomes more insistent than usual.

The air remains unremorsefully frigid. She has time to see the sunrise now but, still, Rhea can’t help but fume by the shimmering water of the pond.

She finds sunrise unusually beautiful this morning – as if caught in the throes of passion. With a blush blooming on her sun-kissed skin, Rhea knows the meaning of her mother’s request to leave so soon.

Ouranos’s arrival.

And, if Rhea knows her sire well enough, her presence could very well spark his short temper. Best to not be caught in the crossfire again this time. She can smell the crackling ozone from here, knowing it must be stronger under the roof where her father lusts for her mother. Surely an affair to avoid at all costs.

An indignant scream – no, _roar_ – quickly banishes those thoughts into oblivion. Rhea jumps to her feet when she senses something wrong. The birds crowing in the field for their morning meal sense it too and they take flight, wings beating furiously as they flee.

She turns towards the direction of Gaia's home and three things happen in that moment: deafening thunder crackles across the cloudless sky, the horizon turns a frightening shade of red, and a sudden, terrible gust of wind makes her fall.

In the chaos, she screams for her mother. Rhea claws her way back to her feet, eyes barely open as the dirt and leaves whip through the air. The wind blows hard enough to peel skin off bone.

And then nothing.

The wind stops, as does the thunder. Only the sky does not change.

Rhea runs, knowing something terrible has happened. Panic, however, leaves no time for speculation.

She slams face-first into what seems like a statue. Strong hands steady her.

_Not a statue._

Kronos stands before her, black garments painted with ichor. Ichor, she realizes, that is not his own. From behind him – straight from her and Gaia's abode – wild cheering erupts.

"What did you do?" she retorts, unable to peel her eyes from the ichor splatter. "What did you do!?"

"What I had to," Kronos responds. He doesn't let go of Rhea, not even as she attempts to reel away.

Blinking rapidly, she says, rather sharply, "What are you doing?"

Kronos begins to walk and she still does not comprehend at first, her mind oddly blank.

"I struck a deal with Gaia," he says with the utmost calm. Rhea digs her feet into the ground but he remains unperturbed. "All the moons I spent in your home, it was for one purpose only. Kill Ouranos in exchange for our sire's crown… and you."

Her heart plummets into her stomach. "What?"

The first half of his statement Rhea alone can barely process: Her father? Gone just like that? She never cared for Ouranos, no, but the idea of him falling to Kronos's blade is frightening in and of itself. Especially when this same man has her in his grasp.

_In exchange for our sire’s crown…and you._

She shrieks, "No! Let me go _kinslayer_."

Kronos shrugs. "Suit yourself." Before she knows it, he picks her up like a doll, throwing her over his shoulder.

"What are you _doing_?!" The scream becomes stuck in her throat. "For the love of Chaos, I am no toy!"

"No, you are not," he agrees simply. "You will be a queen."

"Queen of what? Your bed?"

"Amongst other things," he remarks.

Her panic surges and sours. Rhea does the only thing she _can _do in a moment like this: she bites him.

Her teeth sink home; Kronos throws her down quickly, eager to be rid of her. The young Titaness lands on her ass. She scrambles back, refusing to take her eyes off of him.

His own gaze narrows. "Gods be good, you truly are a wild creature."

"And you a brute," she spits as he comes to kneel before her. She shakes from anger, a raging lion still. "But how could I expect anything else after what you've done?"

Kronos only laughs, outstretching his hand to brush against her burning cheek. Perhaps it is a day of the unexpected because Rhea most certainly does not expect him to kiss her.

Her initial instinct is to freeze but anger burns through her, boiling her blood. Even more so when Rhea finds his hand prodding her breast through her silk tunic.

She slaps his face, hard, just as Gaia might have taught her. But, of course, it only makes him laugh _harder _this time.

“Get away from me,” Rhea seethes, but she knows his grasp is too firm. But before her thoughts can stray elsewhere, Kronos’s penetrating gaze consumes her every thought.

“I am patient when it suits me,” he says, the humor having vanished. His tongue swipes at his bottom lip and, to her shame, Rhea cannot help but stare. “I will take my time with you, sweet Rhea. I will let you play your games – deny me all you want, though it is well within my rights to take you here and now.”

“Without prior consent, my right is to loosen a tooth of yours at the attempt,” she threatens, though they both know her words ring hollow. She could do next to nothing to stop him and now she knows no one will come to her aid. Not even Gaia.

“Even so,” he says with eyes half-lidded. “Our fates are tied. You cannot change that.”


	3. Pride

The days following Ouranos’s death, Rhea finds herself led like cattle. With little say otherwise, they march her to the sea to watch her father’s body desecrated and her elder brother shamed for his absence. Then to Othrys, where she is made to swear fealty to her new king along with the rest of the Titan spawn roaming the earth. To her surprise, the petty war forced upon them by Ouranos over this jutting piece of rock has come to an end. Soon, it will become Kronos’s palace – an odd way, she thinks, to cement peace.

And once built, a palace she will be expected to share with him as his bride.

A piece of news Kronos has yet to announce. Though it’s only a matter of time – throughout all of the proceedings, Rhea half-wonders when they plan to tie her up and drag her to her wedding ceremony next.

Her only relief – if it can even be considered relief – is that Kronos catching her unawares in her sleep is no longer a possibility. Ouranos’s Curse, the last words uttered before his passing, had made sure of it:

_Of all the wakeful nights I spent watching to see who would dethrone me, may yours in this new reign be just as restless. For a child you sire is destined to depose you, just as you have done to me._

She had not been alone in her hope that those dangerous words were meant for Kronos alone. But the night following, as Rhea tried to seek rest from a day of tumultuous events, slumber eluded her. As it did for them all. As it would forever. For Kronos had not been alone in his coup; the same ichor she found painting the robes of Kronos had also stained the hands of Hyperion, Iapetus, Krios, and Koios. All of them having an important role to play in Gaia’s great plot that had been hatched under Rhea’s very own roof.

They save Kronos’s coronation for last – the final event to cement his ascension as Titan Lord and positioning over the universe. A sure sign that there can be no turning back and the days of Primordials are at an end.

In the grand scheme of it all, Rhea feels absurdly small. Though much of it is her own doing as well – she stands close to the back of her brothers and sisters, certainly never the tallest among them. A pale gray shawl covers much of her face, her shoulders, her body. Ever the wraith, blending in more amongst the clouds than with her own flesh and blood.

Kronos still spots her in the crowd.

Rhea’s mouth sets into a firm line. Behind a seated Kronos, Gaia sways with his deadly scythe in her hands, murmuring words the Titaness has no interest of hearing. Not when all she can think of is how long she has before this coronation is over and Kronos is free to declare her his betrothed.

_How long? _her eyes scream at him.

His gaze does not waver.

_Soon_.

Rhea wraps her shawl tighter. Though her face does not change, Kronos clenches his fist as if he knows exactly what she is about to do. Gaia, distracted and with eyes closed, cannot stop her. He, in the middle of his coronation, cannot stop her.

She turns away from him, from the coronation ceremony.

She vanishes.

* * *

Rhea attempts to go home only once.

It is a strange whim she has whilst wandering the Phrygian plains. She cannot be sure what makes her journey in this direction, only that she recognizes the roof of her little hobble in the distance and it is far too late to turn back now.

Her heart sinks as she gets closer.

The signs of desertion are already apparent. The birds which once nested in the thatch roof have taken over completely, their chirps near deafening as she reaches the front door. The door itself lies split in two on the ground, the wood nearly disintegrated and crawling with termites. The bed she once slept in – a bed she no longer has use for – lies collapsed and covered in animal droppings.

She can hardly take it all in without feeling her emotions swell. In her youth, not once had she considered her existence here just a short blip in time. Otherwise, Rhea might have cherished this humble life more.

“You came back.”

Rhea turns around slowly, leveling a leaden glare. “And you left this place abandoned.”

“Think what you may, I am a sentimental creature.”

Gaia breezes in through the doorway, her thin garments fluttering as she turns to sweep her gaze over their old hobble. She brushes her hand over the fragments of Rhea’s bed. As if reversing time, it mends itself instantaneously, shit-free.

She sits atop it with legs crossed. “Once a bird leaves the nest, mother has no reason to stay.”

Rhea purses her lips. “Things could have gone differently.”

“Is that so?”

Her mouth twitches, trying and failing to contain her boiling anger. “You promised me to him without consulting me.”

“I did what I had to.” Gaia scoffs. “Better Kronos than Ouranos. Would you have wanted that? For your sire to one day realize just how grown and womanly little Rhea had become?”

Rhea stiffens. _That day in the field… _“You still should have told me.”

Her mother waves her off and Rhea cannot pinpoint why the gesture hurts so much when it has been done to her a thousand times already. “Your knowledge on the matter would have changed nothing. Your fates were tied together long ago.”

“You do not decide my fate!” she snaps

“You’re right.” Gaia casts her gaze past Rhea to the open door. “But neither do you.”

Rhea follows her stare, only to swear she will combust right there and then. Kronos leans in the doorway, ever the youth she met all that time ago, only now he wears his onyx circlet inlaid with sapphires the size of river stones. A hideous display of newfound wealth and privilege.

_The sky crown of Ouranos._

Rhea’s whips around to face her mother for another round of screaming only to find Gaia herself has disappeared.

“She said that you would come back here.” To her surprise, his arrogant smile is largely absent. “That you always do.”

Another ruse from great Gaia herself. “Not anymore,” she whispers, barreling for the exit, but Kronos snatches her arm in a vice grip.

She feels the silver lining her eyes but refuses to let her hellish gaze soften. “Let go of me.”

She cannot be sure what persuades him to listen to her. He is king now and need not bow to anyone but himself.

His hand falls away from her arm.

And Rhea flees once again. 

* * *

Despite how far she journeys away from mainland Greece, away from the sea and deeper into the Phrygian plains, Kronos still finds her.

She roams the plains with a wooden staff in hand, ever the shepherd, but it is not sheep she leads. Sleek yellow lions follow in her wake, a group of sisters to guard her in her travels. Though she knows very well a creature like the Titan Lord is not to be deterred for long.

Wind parts the grass before them. The sluggish cats mosey along, knowing it is not in their favor for a hunt. Any prey they find will surely catch a whiff of them long before they can approach. Rhea changes their course towards a nearby oasis – best to have liquid fill their bellies than nothing at all.

But as she does, something large catches her eye, resting at the foot of the hills. A silver male awaits them in the distance.

The lionesses pause, sniffing the air. A male is not a strange sight in these parts and it has been a while since one has graced them with his company. An opportunity to diversify their breeding stock is always a welcomed one, but Rhea finds it odd she does not recognize him when she knows all of the cats roaming these plains.

Then she catches sight of those eyes – liquid gold.

She curses aloud and turns away in the opposite direction. Though like a daemon, once spotted, Rhea doubts she will be able to shake him again. 

“Go,” Rhea tells the lions several days later. The wind is in their favor, ideal for a hunt, and she knows her presence – and the ghost following her – would be an unwelcome distraction. They slink off into the sea of yellowing grass.

Rhea sighs and drops to her knees, thin gown fanning out like a pressed flower beneath her. The Titaness studies her hands, her arms, counting the number of golden freckles that have since appeared since her many months – years, perhaps – of traveling the plains.

A rustling in the grass sounds behind her and Rhea might have mistaken it for the wind if she wasn’t expecting his approach. “With all the time you spend stalking me as a lion you should be usurped by now.”

A brief pause follows. “I noticed your males rarely fight.” When she turns her head, she finds Kronos sitting in the tall grass alongside her. For a moment, it feels as if nothing has changed: she is still residing under Gaia’s roof and he has yet to kill their father or resolve to thoroughly ruin Rhea’s life. “They look large and impressive, roar to make everyone aware of their presence. Yet, in the end, they all know their place. Who truly rules.”

“And the females have no need to play such games,” she retorts. “They go for the throat immediately or not at all.”

“Except when they mate.” He smirks. “The most elaborate game of all.”

Rhea rolls her eyes. She hardly needs a lesson on lion behavior from him. “Go away.”

He takes her rebuff with ease. “That is no way to speak to a king.”

“Forgive me, my lord. Not all of us were raised as preening cocks on Othrys.”

“You always speak from the heart, Rhea,” he chuckles. “Truly, it is a breath of fresh air from those preening cocks you are so fond of.”

“I’m glad you find me amusing.”

“Always.”

She whips around to face him. “I want no part in this blood trade you and Gaia brokered. I want no part of this empire you have built on sinful foundation.”

The humor fades from his face. “Of all of Ouranos’s loyal supporters, you are the most unexpected.”

“I will never support that tyrant, I swear it on my life-thread. Yet the laws of the cosmos – that which you cannot change, not even as king – are clear.”

He cocks his head, leaning in closer to catch her eye once more. “Do you fear me then, little beast?”

“Fearing you. Fearing _for _you.” In Rhea’s mind they are not wholly different. “Is that not wise?”

“Rhea of the wild things, oh so very wise.” His knuckles stroke her cheek. “You deserve the world. If you married me, I would gladly lay it at your feet.”

She does not waver. “No.”

His hand falls away. Kronos stands, dusting the grass from his tunic. “I will come back then in the hopes you change your mind.”

Rhea snorts. “Come back tomorrow and you will find my answer the same.”

“In time we shall see.”

She purses her lips. “I suppose we shall.” 

* * *

In a way, Rhea must appreciate his tenacity. Most gods, she thinks, would have moved on to more fruitful endeavors.

It matters not how quick nor how far she travels. Any sign of first light and he appears on the horizon as a sleek white lion, surveying Rhea and her pride with those gilded eyes. And when the light of the day fades, Kronos approaches with the same proposal on his lips.

_Marry me. Become my queen. _

Her answer, as she warned him, remains the same.

In her refusal, Rhea avoids her mother too – she stays far away from Gaia’s places of worship: sacred caves, cracks in the earth, anywhere her presence is strong enough to manifest. The longer she can put off a scolding from the Earth Mother, the better. Particularly since the sting of betrayal has not faded quite yet. 

On one particular morning, Rhea nearly thinks the other Titans have been recruited into Kronos’s desperate bid for her hand in marriage. For, as soon as the sun comes up, she finds Hyperion’s gaze especially oppressive, setting her body to perspire in a manner most unnatural of immortals and her brown skin to burn.

_Kronos’s doing, _she muses, _to force me away from the plains. _Though even a Phrygia on fire she finds more tolerable than the darkness of Othrys.

But one glance at the hill in the distance tells her that this has nothing to do with Titan Lord’s frequent visits.

Rhea scrambles up the grassy mound, her eyebrows furrowed. “I would have dressed better if I knew your arrival imminent.”

Theia glances over her shoulder with a knowing, radiant smile. “No. You wouldn’t have.”

The Titaness brushes the dirt from her chiton. “I would have considered it in the very least.” Her lips purse. “You’re pregnant. Again.”

She pats her swollen belly. “Our numbers have grown by half at least. Amazing all the sex you can have when there is no Sky-father to sneer his disapproval.”

Rhea shrinks back and the tinge of color painting her cheeks does not escape Theia’s note.

Her tinkling laugh fills the air. “Ah yes, I forget beautiful Rhea is a maiden still. Though not for lack of suitors.”

“I have suitors?” Rhea feigns. “I would’ve thought Kronos order them executed.”

“I’m sure he has tried,” her sister muses. Theia pauses for a moment, her pale eyes suddenly dissecting her every move. “You refuse him still?”

She picks at her nails, seeming disinterested. “Does he sulk?”

Theia only sighs. “You are promised, Rhea.”

“A scheme made without my knowledge or approval. Gaia has yet to command me to fulfill such contract. So here I remain.”

Her sister seems unsurprised. “She will grow desperate soon. Kronos has not freed our siblings from the Pit. Nor will he, for as long as you remain unwed.”

Rhea’s gaze snaps to hers. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“He had the resolve to kill our sire.” Their eyes flicker upwards to the blue expanse above their heads. “You will find him full of surprises and void of mercy.”

_And is sending you here one of those surprises?_

Wise Theia catches on to her suspicion immediately and rolls her eyes. “Hush now, he did not send me. But I suppose it’s best to talk of lighter things now.” She stands a little straighter, placing a hand atop her bulging stomach. “We celebrate our child’s birth, Hyperion and I, now fast approaching. Kronos will play host to us on Othrys and I would see you join in the festivities.”

Rhea hesitates. “It has been… a very long time since I’ve been on Othrys.”

“All the more reason to come. And _stay_, so that you may be there when a new Titan is born. Mother raves at how you are the perfect midwife.” The indecision on Rhea’s face remains, which must anger Theia greatly. Her small face bunches up. “I was the one who helped Gaia bring you into this world. Shall I call in that debt?”

Her resolve flounders. “No, I will come.”

Theia’s scowl fades, replaced by a beaming smile. “Don’t worry. I will keep our brother well away from you if that is what you wish.” 

* * *

A promise quickly discarded.

Though Rhea finds it difficult to blame Theia, considering the crafty nature of her intended. For in the middle of the feast, Kronos himself gifts the expecting mother a trove of sapphires from the Far East.

“Those outside our borders pay homage to my ascent to the throne,” he proclaims, standing from his seat at the head of the table. To Rhea’s great displeasure, she found herself seated closer to him than her typical standing would suggest as the youngest daughter of Gaia and Ouranos. Of course, it had been to the displeasure of Themis and Mmnesyone as well, who had regarded her throughout the festivities with their jealous glares.

“Yet I have no use for them,” Kronos continues, and Rhea finds that statement more than true. For the only sapphires that had ever interested him were the ones embedded in Ouranos’s crown. _His _crown.

An army of cupbearers hoist the chests above their shoulders, displaying the treasures to all the gathered Titans and Primordials. Theia in all her hunger does not take her eyes off them, Rhea seated at her side forgotten. Her sister’s love for a shining hoard trumps all else.

“Thank you, brother,” Hyperion intones with little enthusiasm, as if he too has since grown exhausted with his wife’s obsessions. He stands from his own seat wedged in between his wife and the Titan Lord, giving Kronos a minor bow. “As always, I am in your debt.”

Their king smiles. The band of nymphs continue on with their music.

“Excuse me,” Rhea murmurs, unsurprised that Theia does not even glance her way. _Perhaps it is not too late to escape this madness, _she thinks to herself as she rises from the table.

She couldn’t be all the more wrong. The Titaness can hardly grasp for another cup of fermented nectar before he swoops in like carrion on a carcass.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Kronos says pleasantly enough, but Rhea knows better.

Her glare is her answer. “First, none of our Titan brethren have even attempted to look my way throughout these festivities. Now a gift to occupy Theia’s attention. Do I have enough proof you are conspiring against me?”

“I am only a man, Rhea,” he gives as a simple reply. All the confirmation she needs. “What else would you have me do?”

“End this folly. Though that seems unlikely.” She crosses her arms. “I do hope not _all _of this is part of your scheme.”

“Ah yes, even down to the part where I impregnated Theia myself in the most complex plan in the universe just to have you grace my halls.” He rolls his eyes. “I have many feasts here on Othrys, Rhea. After all, a peacock has need to preen.”

“And the Titan Lord has need to flaunt. I know that very well.”

“Precisely.” The world rumbles low in his chest. “Though I will admit I had hoped for your presence here tonight.”

“In the hopes that Othrys would sway me?” Rhea pauses a moment, wondering if she should take the bait. “I think you would agree that my aptitude is better suited for the grasslands.”

“I would think this a nice change in pace.” He takes a sip of nectar, the smile on his face positively feline. “Even with my pestering, you must be lonely in the wilds.”

_Two can play at this game_. “I assume these feasts are not constant,” she bites back with as much grace as she can muster. Gaia, for all her failings as a mother, taught her well in this regard. “You must be lonely as well.”

“And why I would prefer to share this place with my wife,” Kronos answers smoothly, unperturbed.

Rhea bristles. “I am not your wife.”

“You could be.” Perhaps she had enjoyed their banter before his ascent to kingship. No longer, when it is clear that life on Othrys has done nothing but to hone his craft. “Gaia isolated you so. Kept you from the friendship of your sisters, from embracing Titanhood. Were you to marry me, I could just as easily bring you back into the fold.”

Without thinking, her eyes drift towards her radiant sisters. She cannot help but think back to all the lonely moments she sat upon her bed, wishing for the comfort of a family beyond stony-faced Gaia. “Do you spend all those quiet hours in the middle of the night thinking of arguments to persuade me with?”

“Always,” he says without hesitance.

The look in her eyes darkens. “Ask me again—”

Kronos takes a step forward, a last attempt to corner her in their little alcove. “Rhea…”

Anger rushes through her veins. She pushes him back. “—tomorrow. For tonight my answer to you is no.”

Kronos snorts. “You are as unmoving as Gaia herself.”

“_That _sort of flattery will get you nowhere,” she says to him, before moseying on out of sight.

The Titan Lord broods for the rest of the night and Rhea can’t help but be pleased.

Theia might not have kept her promise, but Rhea most certainly does. She stays with Theia until the birth of rosy Eos, whom Rhea cradles against her chest, watching as the babe causes the sky to bleed red at the first signs of sunrise. It reminds her of the death of Ouranos. 

_Perhaps Eos will give the phenomena new meaning._

The door parts before young Helios, thin and scrawny-legged. Closer to manhood than childhood now and Rhea cannot help but think on the last time she saw him. Holding his hand comes little Selene, a child still. Both here to greet their new sister.

Behind them enters Kronos.

“My lord.” An exhausted Theia still shines more radiant than the sun. She pats Selene’s silver hair when the girl approaches. “Another Titan to add to your ranks.”

Kronos nods, though his gaze fixates on Rhea. Under the scrutiny, Eos in her arms stirs. From her back, sweeping orange wings unfurl like a butterfly from its cocoon.

“Chaos has blessed us indeed,” he says, but his eyes hardly glance in the infant’s direction. To Rhea’s dismay, they reflect a certain fondness for her that she cannot quite place. It makes her mouth run dry.

Rhea does not linger in lieu of Hyperion’s arrival. She murmurs no excuses when passing the winged babe to Helios, eager to slip from the room before Kronos can stop her. 

* * *

Her return to the plains is more than welcomed, as is Kronos’s initial absence. The relief she feels not having the king of the universe trailing her every move cannot be overstated. A life of independence and peace is the only thing she has ever wanted for so long now.

But, now that she has it and weeks pass on by without interruption, Rhea senses something in her has changed. An ache in her heart that she cannot shake.

An ache she _should _be able to shake. Especially in the most tender of moments when the great cats, having longed for their mistress’s return, encircle her in a great pile upon their time to retire for the night. The purring cubs, lacking in boundaries, cling to her chest. She runs a hand over their soft fur but, for some reason, even they are unable to drive away her worries this time.

Instead, Rhea imagines them as babes of her own, clawing at her breast, looking up at her with loving eyes. Sometimes she imagines it isn’t the lionesses that surround her, but her sisters and their respective brood.

_It’s a life I could have, _Rhea reminds herself when the daydream stretches on too far. _I need only say yes._

Such contemplation leaves her in a distant mood. She finds herself perched atop one of the tallest hills the following morning, her desire for a good hunt waning. The lionesses depart without her.

Rhea sits back, watches as the clouds float in and out. The dimming sun colors them a haunting shade of purple before, finally, making way for the stars.

“What a pleasant existence you lead.” She doesn’t move, let alone deign him with an initial response. “What I wouldn’t give to study the sky all day and night.”

“You should have never become king then,” Rhea says half-heartedly, for once not in the mood for a fight. She peers at him from the corner of her eye, mildly relieved that her escape from Othrys has not left him in a fit of anger.

Instead, his chest rumbles with laughter. “You make a fair point.”

The silence settles between them, something Rhea once thought would have been difficult for the both of them. Kronos must take it as a welcoming sign. He takes the seat beside her, lying back in the grass. She does not protest.

Rhea turns her head slightly, looking at him from head to toe. “Those scars,” she says. For once, his tunic is sheer silk, exposing the multitude of jagged marks across his flesh to her scrutiny. “Where did you get them?”

He hesitates for a moment, yet another surprise from someone she believed to be so sure of himself. “I was young and foolish and I suffered the consequences.”

“More so than now?” Her eyes narrow. “What a feat.”

Kronos pauses again, no arrogance on his face as it had been in his many other visits to her. “Do you truly wish to know?”

“If it is something you wish to hide? Absolutely.” Rhea rests back on her elbows. “Did one of our brothers beat you to a bloody pulp?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he chuckles, though it is not his usual laugh. His eyes dull, suddenly a million years away. “I am the youngest of the five brothers by far. They were far too occupied to pay much attention to me.”

“Ah yes, thanks to their many centuries warring with each other over a mountain.”

“That was Ouranos’s doing.” His smile melts. “If they were too occupied fighting each other they could not join together to turn on him.”

“Then you came along and proved him right,” Rhea says.

“I did.” He purses his lips. “Perhaps our brothers did have time for me every now and then. When times were peaceful, I traveled at their sides, entertained them with my wit. It did not earn me their enmity when there was war.”

“But it also did not earn you their respect,” Rhea interjects knowingly. “In that regard, Themis and Mmensyone are much the same.”

“Correct. I was powerless – no armies, no lands, no wife to impress upon them.” Kronos twirls a blade of grass between his thumb and forefinger. “I found such a life unsatisfying and it was not long before I sought Gaia out and her prophecies from the deep Earth.”

“And?” She leans in closer with renewed interest, far from the last time she had mocked him for reciting their mother’s prophecies. “What did the whispers tell you?”

He casts her a gaze that she can’t quite read. “For all that I seek, I would have to climb the highest peak.”

“Mount Othrys?”

“No,” he says. “_Gaze upon the world unknown, mounted upon thy father’s throne._”

The absurdity hits her in an instant. “You’re _mad_.”

Kronos can only nod. “The oracle does not lie. The highest peak is no mountain. It is the throne of Ouranos.”

A plane of existence most Titans dreamed of visiting, a tangible layer in the uppermost reaches of the atmosphere intertwined with an intangible realm in the bosom of wide-ranging Chaos. Created by their sire alone to be _his alone_.

Rhea glances upwards at the sky, almost as if she can see it. “What was it like?”

“No words could do it justice,” he whispers, though the awe is evident in his tone. “I see why he guarded it so jealously. I hardly felt his wind striking my chest nor the push that sent me hurtling through the ether. I was mesmerized by the beauty of it all until the very moment my body shattered against the plains of Thessaly. It was utter agony lying there as every tendon, every bone slowly stitched itself back together again. The fact these scars are all that remain is a mercy from Chaos himself.”

_Crooked one. _Were she a heartless being, Rhea might have laughed. “Do you regret it?”

“The first time I ever laid eyes on you was from atop that throne.” Her heart seizes in her chest. Rhea looks away, thankful that it is dark enough that he cannot see the blush rising to her cheeks. “If it were the only way to see, I would gladly climb and fall again and again.”

“A non-existent choice now,” she muses. “You are the king.”

“And rightfully so,” Kronos retorts. “As I said, the oracle does not lie.”

Rhea laughs. “And what else do Gaia’s prophecies tell you?”

“That our life-threads are tied. That we belong together.”

She flinches at his brute honesty. “Is that what all of this is? You, following whispers and fate?”

If the question proves too difficult to answer, Kronos does not show it. “The deal I made with Gaia was for a crown and the girl I saw whilst in the heavens.” His shoulder brushes against her own. “I do not need prophecies to tell me what I already saw with my own eyes.”

Rhea finally turns her head to look at Kronos. Her heart stutters in her chest at how handsome he looks beneath the starry night, a longing that burns throughout her body and soul.

“And if I told you that you could not have both?” They are close enough that their noses touch. For once, she does not shrink away. “Then which would you choose?”

He kisses her instead of answering. Perhaps it is meant to _be _his answer, yet some part of her finds it to be a meager one. They are not the words she expects, the ones she longs to hear.

_Better Kronos than Ouranos._

She supposes there is some gentility in him: the way he cradles her face between his hands, the way his tongue explores her mouth with the utmost sincerity.

“Marry me,” Kronos whispers against her lips. “Please.”

Her entire body runs cold. She opens her eyes and the dream shatters.

“Ask me again.” She stares at his lips, traces them with her fingers. “Tomorrow.”

“Rhea—”

“Tonight, the answer is no, Kronos,” she says, watching the confusion in his eyes flash to hurt and teeter towards anger. “Come back tomorrow.”

Rhea worms her way out of his grasp before he can fumble for another response. She runs before he can grab her, before he can convince her – maybe even force her – to stay. She runs straight back to the lion’s den, her heart skipping a thousand beats and not from exertion.

Once safe, she allows the tears to fall.

Rhea spends the next day trying not to think of him, of the heat pooling in her belly. She tries not to think of those promises either, of becoming a queen of the cosmos in which her hand could help to shape the world’s very foundation. Nor his softer promises of love.

As the sun starts to set, Rhea very well hopes she’s ruined his ego and that he won’t come back. _Perhaps he’s set his sights on another. Marrying Themis or Mnemosyne would save him the trouble._

A fool’s hope – it is not long until she spots the white lion pacing in the distance.

Rhea only sighs. For once, she journeys to meet him halfway.

A mistake, she soon realizes. He approaches her in a foul mood, the impatience oozing from every fiber of his being, stilting any hopes of peaceful conversation. He certainly has not forgotten the night before.

_You are a Titaness, _she reminds herself. _You are a mother to _lions.

In a rare fit of bravery, she sits directly beside him, refusing to let her unease show.

"Marry me," he says with unprecedented directness. In it she sees what Rhea herself never got to see: that part of him with enough nerve to steal his father’s crown.

Rhea refuses to let her resolve slip. "No." She lies back in the grass.

A muscle twitches beneath his eye. "Gaia—"

"Promised me to you," she sighs, boredom masking an undercurrent of nerves. "But I am not Gaia and, even if I was, we both know her promises can take ages to fulfill."

His hand curls around her thigh and she glares at how familiar he’s become. _Too _familiar. "I would have you sooner rather than later," Kronos muses.

It all hits her in a sudden burst of clarity. Rhea sits up suddenly, disquieting him as her face nears his own, only a breath away.

"Then what's stopping you?" she whispers. A teasing hand presses against his thigh as well.

"Nothing whatsoever," Kronos replies back nonchalantly, using his grip on her leg to haul her forward even more, her chest to his. Another tease. "Except curiosity."

They stare at each other for a small moment before he taps his nose against Rhea's, leaning in… But she turns her head, his lips grazing the side of her face instead. Disappointing to say the least.

Rhea lies back in the bed of grass with the grace of a lioness. Perhaps life out on the plains have hardened her after all. "Go on."

He breathes out of his nose, taking a moment to regain himself. "Why say no?" Kronos asks, voice baring the slightest hints of frustration. "You could be a queen, which no Titaness in their right mind would refuse."

"Point taken," she admits. "Are you asking if I loathe you, hence my refusal?"

“Impossible. I can make anyone love me."

_Why me then? _But she cannot pose that question to him. She cannot bear to hear his answer.

Rhea's face goes blank. She gets up again, but fully this time, attempting to stand. "If it does not offend you, my lord, I must go."

Kronos snatches Rhea by the wrist, jerking her a little. "It does offend. It _always _offends." A dark look clouds over his regal features. "You will stay."

_He will stop at nothing to get what he wants, _Theia had told her. In no moment does she believe it more than this.

"I will not." Rhea carefully pries his fingers away. "Ask me again tomorrow." With his permission or otherwise, the Titaness begins to walk away.

"You will say no," he groans after her with a roll of his eyes.

Perhaps he thinks she will keep on walking, that she won’t dignify him with a response. Rhea does.

She peers at him from over her shoulder. "Maybe. Maybe not."

* * *

Nightfall comes and goes, and Rhea spends the majority of it holding all of her cubs close. She kisses them on their heads what must be a thousand times. She isn’t sure when she will get to see them again, _if _she will see them again.

She leaves before dawn, hours before the hunting party can stir.

Rhea finds Kronos in the same spot that she left him, though she doesn’t recall turning him into stone. Though that right there might be the answer to most of her problems.

“Have you come to taunt me?” he retorts.

She shakes her head. “I’ll marry you.”


	4. Tradition

The baths of Rhea’s youth would take place in the cold lake, supplemented by showers beneath mild storms. Otherwise, the tedious task of getting herself wet and scrubbing her skin raw never appealed to her. A Titaness need not bother when she can make the dirt rise up and disappear without a second thought.

This is not the same on Mount Othrys.

A party of nymphs swarms into her chambers by the morning, snatching her from bed and forcing her to journey to the palace’s thermae. She has half a mind to disintegrate at least two of them until their supple hands begin to caress olive oil into every inch of flesh. This is more than a simple act of hygiene – this is a _ritual._

Rhea purrs throughout most of it, eye half-closed, a promise on her lips that she will never leave this room. Kronos be damned.

That is until Theia and Phoebe, loud and boisterous, barge in. They clap their hands, inciting the nymphs into another rampage. Rhea is pulled from the thermal waters and escorted once again to her room.

Nearly a hundred gowns shimmer into existence, her sisters ruffling through them all until they find one of the finest silk known to man, glistening gold like the ichor in their veins. Rhea only sighs.

The same nimble fingers wrap her hair into a braided chignon as Phoebe drones on about the ceremonial proceedings, Theia adding in her own advice here and there. Rhea listens to none of it, becoming despondent at the sight of her bound tresses: only free maidens can loosen their hair to the wind, not a care in the world.

She cannot help but mourn. _We aren’t married yet and I hate him already_.

The clicking and shutting of a wooden box snaps her back into the present moment.

"This is for you," Phoebe says matter-of-fact, revealing a golden diadem inlaid with sparkling emeralds.

She eyes it warily. "Looks heavy," Rhea murmurs.

"Get used to it.” Theia retorts. “By the time Kronos pronounces you queen consort, he shall have a dozen more fashioned for you, each one heavier than the last."

“A dozen,” Phoebe snorts. “More like a hundred.”

Meant from experience, of course. Rhea had been a young girl at the time of Theia’s wedding to Hyperion several decades ago and she remembers it still. There had been no shortage of jewels to attract Theia’s attention.

Rhea sighs again, not that Phoebe or Theia notice. They’re too busy rounding up the nymphs and shooing them from her quarters. She doesn’t realize how much a reprieve the silence offers her until the toilsome beings are gone.

Her eyes sharpen. Rhea studies her new appearance in the polished bronze mirror at her side, poking and prodding at her bound hair. "Kronos scares you," she murmurs, giving voice to a thought that’s been on her mind all day.

For a moment, they both seem to freeze in place and Rhea wishes they could stay that way. Her sisters stare at each other, sharing a wordless conversation between the two of them, not that she is surprised.

"Of course, he does. And, if you were smart, he would scare you too," Theia retorts. "You can never forget what he is, what he's done. Never."

Rhea stiffens. She can still see it clear as day, wishing it had all been nothing but a dream. Perhaps Kronos would have taken her that day in the grass, bloodlust driving him like a rabid animal. Instead, he had dragged her and all of their siblings to the sea. The details of that moment she would not forget: the ichor on her brother's tunic, her father's cock being thrown into the ocean for the fish to feast on, her mother's evil and hungry gaze. Then they had crowned him king, resting Ouranos’s crown of stars upon his brow.

"I haven't,” Rhea whispers as if Kronos can hear them now. “I swore to myself I wouldn’t."

Phoebe shudders, as if also drowning in the icy flood of memories. "You said yes to his proposal."

"Was there any other option besides yes?" Her fists clenched. "I could only stall his proposal for so long. Gaia promised me to him and I know he is not as patient as he claims."

"Still, the choice is always there," her eldest sister frowns. Strong-will and unconventional disregard must run deep in their generation. "And we had hoped—”

"I know, Phoebe.” She had hoped Kronos would have lost interest. Rhea had hoped for much of the same. "It matters no longer. If he wants me to be his queen then I will be his queen."

And perhaps it won’t be such torture. In a way, she is free of Gaia’s seclusion from the rest of the world, free to forge her own path despite what Fate – or Kronos – might have in store.

For once, Theia has remained quiet throughout. When she speaks it is hardly a whisper. "Do you love him?"

It’s a question Rhea has asked herself for days on end. Though in truth, she cannot be sure what love is supposed to look like, what it means. Her example stems from Ouranos and Gaia alone and Rhea is acutely aware of how their union had ended.

The answer to Theia’s question eludes her. At least her sister, full of mercy, does not press; love is irrelevant when it comes to their marriages, a convenience only.

"But it's clear he loves you more," Phoebe muses at last, notes of finality signaling the end of that conversation.

"He loves a pretty face," Rhea snorts. _Nothing more_. He cannot see the Celestial Bronze underneath, the hardness in her veins given to all the sons and daughters of Gaia and Ouranos. But if she must play the role of a blushing bride, so be it.

* * *

Waves the size of mountains crash against the cliff face and the ground quakes beneath her feet. Rhea stands firm, a beacon of gold in her wedding dress stark against the starless night. Wisps of hair have already unraveled free from her braided chignon – perhaps a foreshadowing of how she too is ready to come undone.

“Are you a fan of the sea?”

She glances behind at the young girl standing in her shadow. “It has a certain beauty to it, I suppose. For those enamored by the untamable,” Rhea muses. The girl approaches, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, I do not believe we have met before.”

The girl bows deeply. “I am Metis, daughter of Oceanus and Tethys. I am here on their behalf. It is a great honor to attend this special occasion, my lady.”

“The pleasure is mine, Metis,” Rhea says rather clumsily. She half-wonders if it will always be like this when she becomes queen. “Your mother and father are not here.”

She hesitates. “There were…matters.”

Their eyes lock. “They did not want to come.”

Metis takes a step back to survey her with stormy gray eyes. “You do not know of the conflict.”

She shakes her head. “War? Between Kronos and Oceanus?”

“Skirmishes leading to a stalemate,” Metis dismisses, though Rhea cannot tell if it is out of courtesy. “My father is conservative in his wisdom. He did not wish to incur the wrath of Ouranos by joining the rebellion and this did not settle well with your betrothed. He insulted my father by throwing the Sky God’s manhood into our oceans, proclaiming us enemies. He has denied me and my brothers and sisters Titanhood – none of us are allowed to enter Othrys or marry outside of Oceanus’s domain.”

The girl’s even tone gives rise to Rhea’s curiosity. “Yet you are here as his emissary.”

“Kronos extended the invitation,” Metis smirks. “Perhaps he realizes just how new his kingdom is. He does not want war – not yet. There are pleasantries that must be upheld. For the most part.”

A glimmer of the wily mind behind the easy smile finally puts the Titaness at ease, even as she says, “With relationships so fragile, your father would risk your safety?”

The girl shrugs. “There are a hundred Oceanids, my lady. My father knows this and so does Kronos. What happens to me is of no consequence, for better or worse.”

Rhea nods, accepting the matter. She knows there is little she can do to change the state of things, but what she can change… “I will ensure your safety while you are here, Metis.”

For a moment, Metis looks taken aback. “That is very kind of you, my lady.”

“Very kind indeed,” another voice says from behind. They both turn their heads. “She will be a wonderful queen.”

Metis bows immediately.

Rhea’s expression sours. “Mother.”

“Your betrothed has arrived.” She glides forward, patting Metis’s head. “You best join the others, young one.”

The girl says not another word, nodding quickly and dashing out of sight.

Rhea does not miss the spring in her mother’s steps. Gaia places a hand on Rhea’s shoulder. “I knew eventually you would see reason.”

She bristles. “I do this not for you—”

“I know that very well. You’re nearly as stubborn as I am.” She smirks, the glint in her eyes hinting at a fondness Rhea can’t quite place. “Come. Let us put past enmities aside for the time being. This is a momentous occasion that I have not adequately prepared you for.”

“An understatement,” Rhea retorts.

Gaia’s mirth remains unwavering. “Fear not, dear one. I will help you through this night.”

They say nothing as they rejoin the gathered Titans. What stuns her into this silence, Rhea cannot say. Whether she truly has nothing to say to her mother beyond indignant screaming or she is reluctant to ruin the sanctity of the moments to come. To be declared wife to the immortal she finds basking in the light of the full moon upon the highest point of the cliff-face.

_Kronos._

Gaia’s grip on her arm tightens. Rhea can help but stiffen – though that is perhaps to her mother’s approval.

Over the years, the Titan Lord has shown her many faces: the arrogant prince, the brutal warrior never to be deterred, the dreamer guided by purpose and Destiny. But the face he shows her now is the same one she saw on the Phrygian plains beneath the starry night after he’d told the story of how a boy shattered into a million pieces rose up a man. Utterly vulnerable.

Rhea raises an eyebrow. _Afraid I will take to the wind again?_

His eyes narrow in good humor, as if hearing every word. Though it is Atlas’s booming voice that stops a smile from rippling across her betrothed’s face.

“Here stands your king, Kronos, Crooked One,” the young Titan proclaims, parting through the fray to bore his dark eyes straight in Rhea’s direction. “He who freed the world from bondage. He who slew the Tyrant. The youngest child of Earth and Sky, Lord of Creation, Master of Time. Who has sought him out?”

“I, Rhea…” Her words trail off, at a loss. Gaia’s presence steadies her once again. “Child of Earth and Sky, maiden of the Phrygian plains. I am to be his wife.”

“Approach,” Kronos murmurs.

Rhea, naturally, hesitates. In the face of her reluctance, her mother leads her towards the edge of the cliff, towards Kronos’s waiting hand.

Their fingers touch.

Her heart thunders in her chest.

Gaia snaps and the grass at their feet erupts into flames, trapping the two of them within a circle.

“Breathe,” Kronos whispers. Rhea’s eyes snap towards him. She releases a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She finds his thumb tracing lightly over her own. “It will be over soon.”

That the Titaness knows very well. _And my life will never be the same. _

In Gaia’s hands, a bronze knife appears in existence. She runs a finger over the sharpened edge. “Titans,” she murmurs and the immortals surrounding them stand at attention. “Tonight, we pay witness to the unification of two souls. Two life-threads intertwining.”

She presents Kronos with the knife, an eyebrow lifting, “Shall we see what Fate has in store for them?” Whispers of _yes _are hardly heard over the raging sea.

With a flash of bronze, Kronos splits open his palm with the blade before ushering it towards Rhea. She takes it gingerly, realizing how small her hands are in comparison to his. She appraises the knife, feeling like a child still, before drawing it against her hand. A hiss escapes from between gritted teeth. The knife slips from her bloodied fingers.

Kronos presses his dripping hand against hers. Rhea winces. Together, they watch their ichor ebb and mix. A shimmering droplet plunges into the flames. Followed by another. And then another. In their wake, a faint silver smoke rises up.

Gaia steps closer to inhale it. Then the convulsions begin.

Many times, Rhea has witnessed the oracle taking root inside of Gaia. Though her curling stomach proves that her unease has not settled with time. 

The earth goddess digs her nails into the palm of her hand, drawing forth streams of ichor. All Rhea can hear is the grinding of Gaia’s teeth before her eyes snap open, the convulsions ceasing with frightening speed.

_“Children.”_

The familiar voice causes a ripple through the crowd as the Titans realize Gaia is not the one who stares back.

Kronos whips out his hand and his scythe materializes from thin air. “You,” he seethes.

“Wait!” Without thinking, Rhea grabs his wrist. Their father’s breathy laugh echoes from Gaia’s own mouth. “This is not Ouranos. This is mother still.”

_“No, by all means, child,” _says the intruder._ “Strike down Gaia in your anger. It is no less than she deserves.”_

“I killed you.” Kronos spits at Gaia’s feet. “Seems you cannot tell when you are not wanted, Ouranos.”

Ouranos leers at them still with that sharp, toothy smile. _“You never listened, did you? You never bothered to think upon the words I left you with.”_

The Titan Lord bristles. “The words of a dying man are of no consequence to me.”

_“Do you think you are immune to curses? Shall I make it clear for your new wife?”_

His fists clench. “Gaia…”

_“Gaia is not here, Crooked One. But even she has known all this time, from the very first moment she whispered of rebellion,”_ he retorts._ “My children rose up to depose me, as I always knew they would. So then shall you suffer the same Fate.”_

Rhea holds her head high. “You cannot frighten us, Father. You are nothing.”

Appraising Rhea through Gaia’s face, her skin still crawls beneath Ouranos’s gaze. She has not forgotten their first meeting all those years ago. _“Remember, sweet Rhea. Those who stood by him are doomed to fall with him.”_

Kronos touches her shoulder. “Don’t listen to him. He lies.”

_“Do I?”_ He laughs, and laughs, and laughs. Until his voice turns light and airy, fading like the wind.

The blue light that filled Gaia’s eyes fades as well until she holds oh so very still. Rhea can sense the fatigue creeping up on her mother, but Gaia does not collapse. She waits.

All of them do.

For Kronos.

Stone-faced, his golden eyes bore into Rhea’s in a silent message that she cannot read. Not now when her nerves are so frayed.

He turns to the gathered Titans instead, a dark smile gracing his features.

“Look at you all,” he scoffs. “Shivering like leaves in the wind. Ouranos is no master of Fate and yet he has led you all to believe it. I am not one to let the curses of a dead god frighten me.”

Jaws clench in unison. Titan-spawn as weak? Unheard of.

“Our brother is right,” Iapetus affirms. “We slew Ouranos so he could rule us no longer. No empty curse can change that.”

Kronos bows his head in thanks. “Let fear of Ouranos die with him.”

“And may Chaos swallow his soul!” Hyperion intones, a chant quickly repeated by all of them.

Gaia nods in gentle approval but looks to Rhea now as she speaks. “Tonight, our lord has proven himself worthy of a wife. And in more ways than one.”

Again, the Titans cheer, the memory of Ouranos once again forgotten. Rhea steels herself: she too is Titan-spawn, queen now. _Let fear of Ouranos die with him. _

“But,” Gaia continues, her eyes narrowing, “as old customs dictate, if you want a bride, you must catch her.”

“What?” Rhea has enough time to utter before her sisters descend upon her like vultures. They pull her away from Kronos’s side, giggling and squealing.

Her eyes never leave her mother’s face.

Gaia steps towards her, resting a hand on Rhea’s cheek. “It’s time to run, my little lion. I suggest you discard those heavy jewels ‘less they slow you down.”

“Mother, you can’t be ser—”

Gaia grins, snatching the weighty medallion from her chest. “Have fun, Rhea. Remember that there is still a palace to trek to. Don’t make the chase too hard on him.”

She disappears into the fray and Theia comes to take her place. “Run far and run fast, sister. Try to look just a little terrified. Otherwise, we’ll all just have to assume you gave into Kronos’s advances long before this night.”

Phoebe pushes her down the slope.

Rhea doesn’t recall telling her feet to move – she has hardly thought about anything after Ouranos’s intrusion and this surprise has not exactly bettered her trail of thought – only that gravity works in mysterious ways and she somehow finds her way through a set of wooded hills.

From there, instincts take over.

_If you want a bride, you must catch her._

She has never been preyed upon before, and in a way, she finds it exhilarating. Rhea stamps her feet into the ground, propelling her body forward. She discards the himation across her shoulders, letting it float behind her off into the windy night.

And, allowing herself to listen closer, Rhea swears she can hear a thunderous pursuit. A peal of laughter escapes her. She runs faster.

The elevation plateaus and the trees thin. She hears the roaring river before she can see it. With no more than a thought, Rhea could scale it in one leap, continuing on her trek. Only her mother’s words and a sudden, invisible grip keep her from doing so.

Like wading through mercury, Rhea turns around slowly, unsurprised to come face-to-face with the panting Kronos.

“I didn’t think my bride would give me such chase.” Rhea does not fail to miss the playful twinkle in his eyes.

“Cheater,” she hisses, surprised at how feral she sounds. Not afraid, as any sane person would be given that she has never seen his abilities in action before. “_If you want a bride you must catch her._”

The invisible hold fades but his humor does not. “Apologies. Now that you are in arms reach it seems I am hesitant to let you go.”

Rhea flashes him a wanton smirk, taking a step forward. “Then you’re a bigger fool than I first took you for.”

For one step forward, Kronos makes her take at least three back as he pins her against the nearest tree trunk. She doesn’t miss the nimble fingers grazing at her hips. “What am I to do with such a quick-witted wife?”

Her eyes narrow. She leans further into him, brushing her lips against his own. “Why, you would do best to silence her, my lord.”

Kronos needs no further goading. He captures her mouth in a kiss that steals her breath away and she can’t find it in her heart to protest. Not when she finds the same heart beating wildly beneath her ribs, reminiscent of that _other_ night they once shared together. Though a passion long kept under lock and key, Rhea now sets it free. If Kronos is surprised by the ferocity in which Rhea kisses him back, he does not let on.

Never one to keep his hands to himself, they roam without restraint. Deft fingers slip beneath the hem of her dress and find their way to shaking thighs.

“You’re so cold,” he murmurs against her lips. “We should fix that.”

Rhea doesn’t have time to respond. He cups her ass, squeezing hard enough to lift her up. She squeals.

Her husband seems all too pleased with himself and takes to undoing the laces of her dress. More kisses trail down her neck and, true and said, she finds a nauseating heat rising from her stomach.

Kronos strips her bare – in more ways than one. The stroke of confidence she felt at the beginning of this courtship quickly fades. Rhea shudders as she pushes him away finally, the blush in her cheeks all-consuming. The shy maiden within rises once more. “There is a palace we must trek back to, husband.”

“No,” he growls, sending a thrum of pleasure down her spine. “I will take you here where the moon shines. Where the world will see that you are mine.”

Rhea pauses. She cannot say _why _such a thing sounds so appealing. Even under the weight of a crown, perhaps her heart still belongs to the wilderness and such a proposition still allows it to sing.

She gives him a simple nod.

Kronos captures her lips again. His hands drop to her hips, prying pins loose from the fabric of her dress. Bunched at her waist, it is not long until he allows it to fall to the ground forgotten.

He pulls away breathing heavily, resting his forehead against her own. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Kronos whispers.

The back of her hand brushes the pulsing vein in his neck. Perhaps, beneath the moonlight, he is just as flushed as she is. “I’m thinking about how I want you to touch me.”

Kronos chuckles deep in his chest, providing ample kindling for the fire erupting in her belly. “We could always start here.” His hand presses firm against the inside of her thigh. Rhea shudders. “Do let me know when I’m close.”

But Rhea already knows her help is unnecessary. His phantom fingers climb higher, seeking warmth.

“There,” she moans still, and he obliges, rubbing in slow, torturous circles that might just cause her to combust. The ache between her legs has never been so unbearable. She rocks against his hand, eager for a release. Much like a wave building on the tide, ready to come crashing against the shore.

For a moment, she’s so preoccupied with Kronos’s ministrations she almost misses a chill on the back of her neck. A sure sign of them being watched.

“Stop.” Her arms snap back to cover her breasts from view. “They’re here.”

Kronos withdraws though his gaze hardly strays from hers. He feels it too – the eyes scrutinizing their every move. “It seems they’ve come to watch.”

That isn’t to her surprise. The Titans are entitled to a consummation ceremony of the newlyweds, though Rhea sincerely doubts they had planned to watch from the middle of the woods.

A slow smile breaks across his face and, with his pupils blown wide, he looks positively feline. “Do we plan to give them a show?”

_I will take you here where the moon shines. Where the world will see that you are mine. _A literal declaration then. For the hundredth time this night, she blushes and says nothing.

“They aren’t really here. It is only us still.” Kronos pauses for a moment, drinking her in. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

“Don’t I?” Rhea quips, a frown forming on her lips. “If you have me wet and willing or screaming and with my face in the dirt, it matters not. The outcome is the same.”

His brows furrow. “It isn’t. I would have never waited for you to say yes if that were the case.”

If only Rhea can make him see that that had never been a real choice. At the end of the day, those who have been told their fate become slaves to it. This marriage was inevitable and she can no longer delude herself into thinking otherwise.

But a choice has been laid out in front of her. She can say no to him now, redress and make the trip back to Mount Othrys with the rest of the Titans in toe. Though from then on, she will no longer be allowed to run free through the plains. As queen, her allegiance is to Kronos and his vision of a world order, her wants now nonexistent.

Or she can be true to herself just this once, however brief. She can show him and the rest what sort of metal their new queen is made of.

Rhea lowers her arms and reaches out to rip away the gilded belt resting on his hips. Kronos doesn’t touch her, only watches as the tunic falls. His erection now revealed, her face burns hotter than Hyperion’s armor. But she refuses to look anywhere else but his eyes, where she finds his mischievous glint has returned.

“If you’re expecting me to ogle you, think again. I have more pride than any wayward nymph you’ve come across,” Rhea tells him, though she takes in the cut of his body in her peripheral vision. For a moment, she can understand Ouranos’s obsession with perfection given all that their father created.

“I expect nothing,” Kronos lies, finally taking her into his arms once more.

He lays her down upon the forest floor like a ripe sacrifice for the cruel gods that came before them. She takes in the dirt beneath her skin, the leaves caressing her hands, and how _right _it feels to be close to their mother’s embrace rather than a palace piercing the ether…

Yet fear flashes in her eyes. It doesn’t escape Kronos’s note and she knows what he must be thinking: _The maiden of the Phrygian plains, a true maiden after all. _

The next kiss on her lips is the sweetest of them all. Rhea glares nevertheless; she is not a hapless babe and if he intends to treat her as such then her first act as queen will be to hurl him off of Mount Othrys.

Kronos only smiles, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. Her expression softens beneath his touch. No matter how brash and arrogant her husband can be, at least she has the privilege of seeing this side of him, especially on tonight of all nights.

With little ceremony to be had, he nestles himself between her thighs. His erection gathered in one hand, he guides himself to her entrance.

Her quivering fingers trace the scars on his chest. _The first time I ever laid eyes on you was from atop that throne. If it were the only way to see, I would gladly climb and fall again and again._

Kronos slips inside of her a moment later with a gasp on his lips. His lashes flutter, his breaths barely restrained.

She watches him in silence, focusing on her body to remain still yet pliant. Her face pinches the deeper he goes until Rhea can no longer take it. “Wait,” she whispers finally.

Kronos freezes, eyes wide and probing her expression. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She struggles to say something, anything… but, in this moment, Rhea finds it easier to show him.

Without warning, her hands push against his chest. In his shock, Kronos moves far more readily than she anticipated and Rhea presses her advantage, a lioness making her kill. Though with Kronos, there is hardly a struggle. She traps his waist between her thighs, pinning his arms beneath her.

Rhea senses the whole world inhaling, holding its breath. Not even a day as a wife and she has already broken her first law, though her husband makes no move to reprimand her. Kronos’s mouth hangs open but no words come forth. She takes that opportunity to stroke the hardness brushing against her thigh and he shudders.

“It matters not what women you have been with before,” Rhea declares before him. “I am not them.”

He closes his eyes, voice straggled, “No, you are not.” She has proven that well enough.

She persists still. “I am your queen.”

When Rhea takes him between her legs again, she is the catalyst, the one who leads. Their union still brings her discomfort but the Titaness forces herself to take it in stride this time. _I am the blood of Earth and Sky. _She has felt pain before, the kind that scars the soul. Tearing apart her maidenhood is nothing in comparison.

Rhea smells Gaia’s approval in the air. This time she does not feel fear or apprehension. She only feels power.

“You are my queen,” Kronos answers finally, still straining to hold onto some shred of control. When their eyes lock, Rhea swears she sees only reverence.

She pushes herself to the hilt, smothering the cry threatening to escape her lips. “You are mine.” The words remain heavy on her tongue as if uttering a spell.

“I am yours,” Kronos agrees readily. His hands grab onto her waist, sending little shocks firing up and down her spine. He leans forward and Rhea finds his lips a breath away from her own. “Completely and utterly yours.”

As he thrusts into her, causing Rhea to elicit a groan she didn’t think herself capable of, she prays it isn’t a lie. But to the dozens of eyes boring holes into her back, Rhea can only smile. 


	5. Hearth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems only Rhea understands the importance of family.

The days of bliss blur together. Perhaps it is too easy when most of those first few days are spent in their new chambers the moment they cross into the palace’s threshold.

Day and night, Rhea explores him anew, eager to chip away at his rough exterior and uncover the same vulnerability she glimpsed beneath the stars. In return, Rhea thinks he steals a part of her soul every time she lies with him, for he has seen parts of Rhea that she has shown to no one else before nor will she show ever again.

The novelty of sex, however, can only last so long. Especially when there are unbidden questions that come to mind, desperate to be answered.

"Do you think what Ouranos said was true?"

Even the candles dim at the mention of his name, a lingering curse they can never shake even in their thickest haze.

The question draws out Kronos’s head nestled in the crook of her neck. He shoots her a glance somewhere between mildly amused and wary. "Father, even in death, enjoys bluffing." His arms around her waist tighten. "You should know that better than anyone. His many threats to throw the lot of us into Tartarus were boundless and yet here we all are."

She only sighs, pressing closer against him. Rhea has spent so long with Kronos now, the two of them intertwined, that she can hardly imagine a time when they were apart.

"He doesn’t deserve your attention, love," he whispers against her jaw, teeth aching to scrape against her skin, devour her whole. "You are my queen now. Banish all thoughts of him."

The Titaness grins, murmuring something along the lines of, "I like the sound of that."

_I am your queen. _She declared as much to the entire pantheon – to the entire world – and he had wholeheartedly agreed. Green eyes meet gold. "You never did tell me what made you say yes."

Her heart nearly stops. “That depends.” Rhea lifts her head, balancing it on a propped elbow. “Do you want the truth?” _Because that is the one thing I cannot give you. _

He pauses, perhaps reading the indecision carefully hidden behind her nonchalant mask. “With all the times I was rebuffed, I doubt you could bruise my ego anymore.”

_Half-truths it is then. _“Then I’m not sure.”

As she expected, Kronos groans in indignation. “Come now, Rhea…”

“You speak of Fate, which I can only fight against for so long if it is true,” she retorts as a quick excuse, her mind whirling. “And then there’s you, so stubborn once your mind is set. I would have an easier time herding lions across the ocean.” Rhea smiles lazily. “Perhaps I was tired?”

"Tired of me?" Kronos probes. “Gaia? The idyllic life of a peculiar shepherd?”

"Maybe,” Rhea answers with little clarification.

“You are insufferable.”

Her eyes narrow in amusement. “And sadly, you are stuck with me forever. If I were king of the cosmos, I would have done more vetting.”

She purses her lips though, knowing half-truths and vague words will do nothing to placate his curiosity, wily being that he is and always will be. Rhea searches her mercurial heart to the best of her ability in search of an answer that would satisfy him.

When Rhea does, she grows somber at the thought. “Theia, Phoebe, they would visit mother often.”

He snorts. “A flock of hens.”

“Yes. Wherever they go, their brood follows.” The bitterness in her voice hasn’t been conjured for his sake. “Their children are… so innocent and lovely. Their marriages are far from perfect – Koios and Hyperion are not easy men to love – but they’ve found happiness in the life that they’ve created. They… I would be a liar if I said that I didn’t envy them from time to time.”

For a long moment, Kronos does not speak. "And that is why you think of Ouranos.” His jaw tightens. “His words frighten you.”

“Do they not frighten you?”

His gaze softens. “We have each other, Rhea. If Ouranos had his way, I would have been cast out by the other Titans – driven to madness by the isolation. But he was wrong. I am at the brink of ushering a new world order with you at my side.” A blush rises to her cheeks – she still has not given full thought to the weight of her new title. “I say let the fear of Ouranos die with him. Let us start our new life free of his shadow.”

Her resulting smile is bittersweet. “With that silver tongue of yours, you could make Chaos seem as small and insignificant as a blade of grass.”

“But a silver tongue will not wipe away your worries completely,” he sighs. “Only trust can do that, which takes time.”

_Perhaps he is not entirely ignorant. _“Time. Everything is always a matter of time with you.” She smirks. “How depressing.”

“Should I tell you of lighter things then?”

Rhea almost sighs in relief, grateful for the change in subject. “Depending on what they are.”

"I asked a favor from the Cyclopes building our palace. We will spend most of our time on Mount Othrys and godsforbid we keep a wild beast from its natural habitat." Rhea climbs off their bed but she is careful not to let her stare break away from his. "A sanctuary is being constructed for your eyes only, should you ever wish to return to your days of frolicking and flower picking."

Rhea bites her lip, trying to keep herself from grinning. "And there's a pond?"

"The exact same one," he muses. "They will get the details just right."

"Will they?" She lifts herself from the bed, knowing he doesn't miss the spring in her step. "What kind of flowers?"

Kronos raises an eyebrow. "If I told you it would spoil the surprise."

“Another way to say, _I don’t know?_” Rhea pours herself another goblet of nectar.

Kronos naturally gravitates towards her with an impish grin that reflects his age: too young, younger than Rhea herself.

She takes a sip and Kronos takes his chance, pressing his fingers to the bottom of the chalice and tilting it up. Rhea flinches when the nectar flows past her lips and down her chin. Her hand covers her mouth immediately and they both stare at the drops that hit her bare chest.

“Bastard.” She wipes the golden liquid from her lips.

Kronos gathers her in his arms, unable to hide his amusement. Experimentally, he kisses the valley between her breasts. The nectar smears.

Rhea only sighs. All thoughts of Ouranos, curses, and Fate quickly drift off into the abyss, forgotten. She straddles his waist, holding him close as Kronos's hands once again find their way to her thighs. Around them, between them.

He smiles again, devious as always.

* * *

When she was a child, Rhea feared the dark. The creatures who roam in it – Erebus, Nyx… _Tartarus_ – were never friends to the progeny of Earth and Sky, born in a time where Chaos ruled supreme.

Her first time on Othrys, now queen of the cosmos, the dark is apparent. But given she had spent most of her life thus far on the Phrygian plains, of course any grand enclosure might seem little more than a tomb.

Rhea hardens herself against such longing. _This _is her home now and she must make do. But with this realization comes another, in which dark places need not be cold or frightening. Sometimes – with effort, of course – she can think back to the times she was but a sentient candle burning bright in her mother’s womb. The warmth that nurtured her, kept her safe, prepared her for a life as Fate’s puppet.

_We need fire, _she tells Kronos, and as always, he obeys.

She plants her hearth in the center of the sprawling complex, carefully positioned far away from the dreaded throne room meant to be imposing to his enemy’s emissaries. _His domain_, she calls it, while hers is far more welcoming.

“GET OUT!”

The mountain quakes beneath his roar but she has long learned to ignore Kronos’s explosive bouts of rage.

She prods at the flames of her budding hearth, casting a glare at young Metis in the corner who seems a hair away from chewing off her nails. “Quickly now. Before he gets away.”

The girl flees the room and Rhea reclines on her makeshift throne – little more than elegant cushions and a far cry from her imposing onyx beast resting in the throne room.

It is not long before she hears padding footsteps and frantic hushed whispers. Metis and man at her side bow once coming into her view.

Rhea sits up a little straighter. “Brother Nereus. It is so good to see you.” Metis takes a seat on the floor by her side. “You do not intend to leave so soon, do you?”

The Primordial snaps back up, his spine as rigid as tree bark. Sea blue eyes are filled to the brim with stormy rage. “Your husband has insulted me for the last time—”

“But you do _me_ ill if you mean to leave without joining me for dinner.” She flashes a dazzling smile. “You wouldn’t offend the queen of Mount Othrys in such a way, would you?”

Where Kronos is fire, so quick to anger, she is the soothing balm for the burn – calm and collected. But it is a mistake to think that their traits have not rubbed off on one another.

He hesitates. “Kronos—”

“Will never change his ways,” Rhea interjects. “A bull can never become a butterfly, you understand?”

Her half-brother nods reluctantly. If anything, Gaia’s stubborn nature has certainly rubbed off on him.

She smoothes out the wrinkles in her skirt. “I want my children to grow up in a world where they will be safe, brother. That cannot be so if land and sea are at each other’s throats. For their sake, tell me what it will take to have this ceasefire enacted?”

Nereus raises an eyebrow. She watches as he notes the hearth in between them. He takes a precarious step forward, still so _stiff _despite the rumors Rhea had heard of sea deities being so lax. “Is it proper to do business with the likes of—?”

Her impatience cuts like a newly sharpened sword. “Metis, a summary?”

“Disputes over territory, my lady.” She places a hand on the queen’s knee. “Lord Oceanus has undisputable control of the waters encircling our territory, as was his birthright following Pontus’s abdication. However, the inland waters have not yet been spoken for.”

Rhea attempts to hide her snort. “Oceanus and my husband fight over creeks and streams?”

“It is those very creeks and streams that fuel the agriculture your worshippers depend on, my lady.” Nereus’s eyes narrow. “It would be best not to overlook them.”

She tilts her head towards him. “Forgive me, brother. You are right.”

“Kronos requests dominion over the water spirits since they are in his territory,” Metis continues. “Many of them, however, are sons and daughters of Oceanus and would rather owe loyalty to their father.”

“And what would be your suggestion for a resolution?”

“As I was explaining to your husband—”

A hiss from her lips stops him short. “My question was directed to Metis, my lord.” Her lips purse. Forgive me,” Rhea adds, though the words ring hollow.

A bead of sweat erupts about Metis’s eyebrow. “I have no right to preside on such matters, lady.”

The insolent Nereus continues, much to Rhea’s chagrin. “The girl is correct. These are the affairs of men—”

“Are you not a daughter of Oceanus?” the queen snaps.

“Yes.”

“And are we not deciding the fates of your brothers and sisters?” A moment of quiet ensues before Rhea presses on once more. “Then if you were put into this position, caught between the world of your father and the world of your rightful king, what would you do?”

The silver eyes of Metis flicker back and forth between Rhea and Nereus. For a moment, the old sea god relaxes, perhaps thinking his point made. Until the girl blurts out, “Pay tribute.”

He looks to her, incredulous. “Excuse me?”

“The laws of the universe dictate that we must respect our fathers in all things. To disrupt such a bond is to tempt fate and welcome disorder. Thus, the progeny of Oceanus should remain under his dominion. In this, I agree with you, uncle.” Rhea places a hand over her own. “However, with our territory being split between the two brothers, we have no right to Kronos’s territory unless we show him the respect he is owed as the lord of these lands. The Oceanids and the Potamoi should bestow a necessary tribute, to be decided by Kronos and collected by his four Titan brothers, in order to preserve the terms of ceasefire.”

Rhea gives Metis’s fingers a gentle squeeze, hoping it will convey just how proud she is of her in this moment. “Nereus,” she says, “will our brother agree to these terms?”

His lips fix into a thin line. “Will _Kronos?_”

She snorts. “I make no promises but a wife knows the ways in which her husband can be persuaded.” Rhea ignores the color that rises to their cheeks. “Will you take these terms to Oceanus?”

He grimaces. “Yes, my lady. Though I cannot say if he will agree to them.”

“That is as much as I can hope for at this moment in time.” Rhea closes her eyes briefly. “Thank you, Nereus. Will you be staying with us this night?”

The god drops into another bow, still stiffer than the last. “No, my lady. I think it best to take my leave.”

“Fine,” Rhea dismisses, “so long as you do your job and leave me to mine.”

She watches Nereus go. A heartbeat later, Metis rises from the floor to follow him out the door. Rhea’s voice stops her. “Metis.”

The girl slips a fearful glance over her shoulder. “Yes, my lady?”

“I enjoy having you as a handmaiden but it has come to my attention you are ill-suited for the task.”

She falls to her knees, palms splayed across the floor. “My lady, I am sorry if I offe—”

“From now on, you will be my personal advisor, to help me in these matters when they arise.”

The girl blinks for several moments, as if unable to comprehend at first. “You are too kind, Lady Rhea. Truly.”

She tilts her head in thanks. “See that Nereus finds his way out. I will take care of Kronos personally.”

* * *

An hour into the _thermae_, Kronos finally comes to her, slamming the door behind him. He finds Rhea with her head resting against her arms, while the rest of her body remains submerged beneath the temperate bathwater.

Lazily, she cracks open an eye. “Rough day?”

He snorts. “Let us not talk of kingly affairs.” He slips out of his tunic, though without taking his eyes off her. “You are the one thing that has been on my mind all day.”

She chuckles, watching him approach the water’s edge. “I do more than wait for you to bed me in the night, fool. You do realize that?”

“Yes, of course,” Kronos mocks. He sinks into the waters with a content hiss upon his lips.

Still, Rhea keeps her distance, studying him with earnest intent. “I heard of your troubles with Nereus.”

As expected, his loving façade drops. “You spoke with him?” He scowls. “Why?”

“You aren’t subtle when your yell can be heard from across the mountain, love.” She smirks, finally padding over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “But yes, I did.”

“And what did the slimy bastard say?” Her fingers brush against his clenched jaw. “Did he speak of more ways to cheat me?”

“He hardly spoke,” she muses.

For once he does not soften under her touch, though she refuses to let it unnerve her. “Ah, so your leaden tongue is just as quick with other men, I take it?”

Rhea scoffs. “Are you jealous?”

Kronos traces the ridge of her collarbone. “Do I have cause to be?”

She rolls her eyes. “Metis was with me and thank Chaos for that. She came up with a brilliant solution I think you would find agreeable.”

His suspicion eases. “Go on…”

A peal of laughter escapes her lips. “How would you like to become richer?”

His hands cup her face. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips – just the opening she had pressed for. “You certainly have a way of catching my attention, little lion.”

“Let the Oceanids and Potamoi declare for their father.” Anger flashes across his face, but Rhea continues anyway, so use to his mercurial moods. “So that when you tax them, there will be no hard feelings.”

Kronos considers her for a moment. “What could insignificant water spirits offer me?”

“Even you are aware of the riches to be found in streams and lakes, dearest one.” She dares a peck on his lips. “You need only request it in return, should they wish to avoid your infamous wrath.”

He breaks apart from her, shaking his head slowly as if to clear it. Kronos climbs out of the water, sitting on the pool’s ledge. “And let Oceanus win?” he grumbles.

Rhea purses her lips. She stands to her full height, treading water to reach him. “You are king of Earth and Sky.” His half-hidden erection doesn’t escape her note, bringing a smirk to Rhea’s face instead. “While Oceanus is but another ruler of the sea.” Her hand comes to rest against his knee. She finds it easy to part his legs and nestle herself between them. “You need not antagonize each other further. Time to leave him forgotten in the depths where he belongs.”

“Sweet Rhea with her sweet words.” Kronos scoffs, though it has since lost any sense of derision. He broods for a moment – so characteristic of this Titan Lord – as he lays thoughtful strokes against Rhea’s shoulder. “I should thank that girl of yours. She was certainly a worthy investment.”

“I already did. A promotion.” Rhea dares another kiss, this time on the top of his thigh. “Now let me thank _you_. For agreeing to this scheme.”

She expects him to sneer, to tell her that he hasn’t agreed to anything. Instead, Kronos brushes his fingers through her hair. “What did I do to deserve such a beautiful yet _devious _woman?”

* * *

As lady of Mount Othrys, when the ceasefire is ratified, she is the one who makes plans for a grand celebration. Though, true to her word, she finds it an impossible feat without Metis. The Oceanid marches across Othrys with a general’s authority, barking orders to her army of nymphs in order to ensure all proper preparations are in place. Braziers lit. Tables set. Floors polished. And Rhea beams at Metis throughout it all, much like a proud mother.

When the Titans gather, Rhea greets them in a gown that shimmers as blue as the Mediterranean. Metis herself had strung pearls through the Titaness’s hair as a small taste for what their future will hold.

By the time she finds her sisters in the fray of partygoers, Theia and Phoebe have decimated the stores of fermented nectar. As if nothing has changed, they encourage Rhea to drink her own fill as well before bombarding her with details of their sexual escapades. Rhea blushes throughout all of it. And Theia, whose head often floats among the clouds, stares at the queen with her undivided attention. “Marriage suits you,” she smiles, always with a gaze that suggests she knows more than she lets on.

But before the Titaness can press her sister further, they’re swept into a larger group with Themis, Mmnesyone, and other minor Titans.

They drink to her husband’s success with Oceanus. Though it was _her _meddling that cemented peace, Rhea knows very well that the role of queen will always be a thankless one and such a conversation does not bother her as much as she thought it would. For her success is Kronos’s success and vice versa.

_This is what it means to be a married woman. _

True to fashion, Kronos enters the chamber to cheering and thunderous applause. His gaze cuts through the crowd to find Rhea. She smiles coyly, taking another sip of nectar.

Hyperion passes the Titan Lord his own goblet. “To Kronos!”

The Titans thrust their cups into the air. “To Kronos!”

Always his herald, Atlas prattles off the titles Rhea once heard at her wedding. _Crooked One. He who freed the world from bondage. He who slew the Tyrant. The youngest child of Earth and Sky. Lord of Creation. Master of Time._

Now _peacemaker_.

“I have ushered in a Golden Age, brethren,” Kronos muses, clapping his brothers on their backs. “But it would be unjust for me to take all the credit. Instead, we toast to our queen, nearest and dearest to my heart.”

She can hardly believe his words, now drowned out by another round of applause. From across the room, their eyes lock, and Kronos raises his goblet in her direction. In this moment, Rhea swears she feels true happiness.

Though this moment pales in comparison to the fluttering inside her belly.

* * *

The special light overwhelms her as a single spark that soon multiplies into a dozen. Then a hundred. And then a thousand. Something so strange, so beautiful – Rhea knows what this is before even Gaia, goddess of the oracle and every prophecy whispered from the deep cracks in the earth, can tell her.

“I will be a mother soon,” she whispers to her own mother – the first person she tells – in a sacred grove just outside the shadow of Mount Othrys. Even such words can hardly contain her awe, her hope, in revealing this truth.

“It was only a matter of time,” Gaia sighs in a tone that seems almost like dismissal. Her gaze does not waver from the mountains lying in the horizon. “You are closer to the earth than any of your other sisters. Your fertility knows no bounds.”

Rhea tries to hide her disappointment, though she can’t be sure what she expected from Gaia. Words of approval? A loving embrace? Her hand drifts to her belly, seeking comfort in the life swelling beneath her fingertips. “You make it sound like a disease.”

Gaia’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder. “Our gifts come with their fair share of good and bad.” The goddess finally looks to her and Rhea finds her eyes to be more guarded than usual. “Yours, it seems, have grown exponentially.”

“What does that mean?”

“Only time will tell.” All the confirmation Rhea needs that her mother is hiding something. “Have you informed Kronos?”

“No,” she admits. “I wanted to be sure.”

Gaia stares at her for a long moment. With every passing second, Rhea’s nausea seems to rise. “You were already sure.” Her lips settle into a firm line. “Are you afraid?”

Such careful wording gives the queen pause. “Do I have cause to be?”

“That all depends,” Gaia says, “on how much you trust him.”

_I trust no one, _Rhea must tell herself in the many months she dwells on this secret. _It has nothing to do with Kronos. _

Naturally, she blames her mother for this development and not just for the conservation they shared in the grove – but as a side effect of Rhea’s entire upbringing. She had forever grown up in the shadow of a mother who had endured the Beginning, who understood what it meant to love and trust and hate and hurt.

_But Gaia isn’t here. _

She nearly tells him half a hundred times in the stolen moments they spend in Rhea’s sanctuary or before their heated exchanges in the thermae. Worse still are the nights she shares his bed, wishing she could break the dam withholding the flood of words so desperate to be released. 

But an unknown worry holds her back every time.

Rhea sighs, resting her aching back against her swarm of cushions. Even if Kronos doesn’t notice, Rhea _does. _The slight stretch of her belly, her breasts growing round and heavy.

Again, Rhea stokes the flames to her hearth, now muted and dull. _A warning, perhaps, _she muses. A family cannot thrive on a mountain of secrets.

_No more games, _she decides. _I must tell him the next time I see him. _

But perhaps Fate has a cruel way of playing tricks on her. It is not long before she hears his footfall down the hall, making his way towards her.

Her blood chills when his face comes into view.

“There you are.” Kronos throws himself down on the cushions beside her. “It’s late.”

Rhea shrugs. “We don’t sleep. The time of the day is of little importance.”

“All the same,” Kronos pulls her closer, “I missed you.”

“I have surely wrapped you around my finger then,” she muses, nuzzling his chest. “A few hours gone and you come searching like a lost cub.”

“Can you blame me?”

His fingers stroke her cheek. _You’re a fool, _Rhea chides herself. _A godsforsaken fool._

Kronos lays a kiss against her lips, innocent enough. But this Titaness knows better. This is the calm before the storm, for his second kiss is searing. Always filled with the insatiable hunger of a starving man. Her bottom lip catches in his teeth and she can’t help the whimper that escapes her. Kronos rears like a wolf that’s caught onto the scent.

He covers her body with his own. Wanton hands roam freely, pawing at her breasts until Rhea finds herself careening into him. The heat he draws out of her is sudden and blinding.

Until Kronos’s hand skims against her stomach.

She breaks away from him, gasping.

“What’s wrong?” Kronos asks her, tongue swiping over bruised lips.

Briefly, Rhea wishes she could freeze time right here and burn this moment into her mind forever: blushing faces, tasseled hair, loose tunics slipping from their shoulders. 

“I think…” _Come out with it. Enough is enough. _“I’m with child, Kronos.”

For a moment she only hears wood crackling beneath the strain of the flames. “You’re…” His eyebrows furrow. “You’re sure?”

Her mind reels. “I went to Gaia. She told me it was true,” Rhea lies. She groans on the inside, but a small lie such as this one is much easier to reveal than one hiding something of such importance.

“Sweet Chaos,” Kronos whispers, for a moment at a loss for words. “Do you know what… it will be?”

_Does it matter?_ She rubs a hand against her burning cheeks, sighing, “No, not for sure.”

“Hopefully it’s a girl.” Perhaps he sees her resulting face that he feels the need to add, “Isn’t that what most mothers hope for?”

Rhea frowns. “And wouldn’t most fathers hope for a son?”

“I suppose.” A shadow passes over his face. “Then again, I’m the Titan that killed his own father. I don’t deserve to be content. But you do.”

“Kronos,” she whispers, a spike of guilt rising in her. She has long thought the worst of all the men in her life but she has no right to question his intentions now.

Rhea finally allows herself to bask in his embrace. It won’t be long now until she cradles this babe in her arms and she has him to thank for that. She captures his lips in a celebratory kiss.

“I love you,” Kronos murmurs, flushed against her skin. And in that moment, it is easy for her to miss that sparkle of doubt in his eyes. And it is equally as easy for Kronos to forget that she does not say _I love you _in return.

But she must love him, at least, for this sweet joy he has given her.

* * *

Rhea arrives in the heavens out of breath, swearing this will be the last time she indulges in answering favors whilst _this _pregnant.

“Come quickly, mistress,” she hears before hardly opening her eyes. Lord Aether of the heavens stands before her in all his shining radiance, but not for long. He turns on his heel, rushing down the hall with the expectation that Rhea follow him. “Hyperion will make his approach soon, Hemera with him. Nyx must be in the Underworld by then or we fear throwing off the cycle.”

Though she has always loved Aether’s sunny demeanor since she was a child, it takes all of Rhea’s willpower not to incinerate him on the spot. “It is in Kronos’s best interest that this does not happen, but please my lord Aether. Take pity on an expecting mother?”

The Primordial realizes his mistake. “Of course, my lady, of course. Forgive me.” He returns to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Goodness, I remember when you were a babe yourself, so full of energy. Look at how the time passes. You are also quite far along.”

Rhea clears her throat as they continue their brisk walk across his holdfast in the heavens. “I am. Our daughter will grace us with her presence soon.”

“A girl? Bold of you to presume.” He smiles. They stop at a gilded door where she can barely hear a dozen voices murmuring in unison. “It seems Gaia did not exaggerate. You truly have a way with children.”

Rhea grimaces. “Yes, I suspect this is why Nyx requested me. I hope to live up to her expectations, my lord.”

Aether pushes open the doors. “Scatter,” he demands.

Like the wind, cloud nymphs zoom past him, fleeing out into the hall save for two gripping a raven-haired goddess by both arms.

Aether averts his eyes, ushering Rhea inside, “The floor is yours, my queen.”

The doors shut close behind her before she can speak.

“Good niece.” The straining goddess cranes her head. “I would bow to you, but it seems I am already crouched.”

She squares her shoulders, letting the piled stress from today’s events so far roll off her skin. “Do not strain yourself, Lady Nyx. I’m not a Titaness who cares for such pleasantries.” A cloud nymph hands Rhea a wet rag to wipe her hands. “Shall we begin?”

She walks to Nyx’s side before the goddess can nod her approval. “The birth has stalled?”

“Yes, my lady,” one of the nymphs responds. “She has not progressed for hours.”

Nyx manages a twisted smile. “Your presence makes all the difference, young Rhea.”

Truthfully, Rhea cannot discern sarcasm from sincerity when it comes to this goddess. Nyx’s aura on its own is as mysterious as wide-ranging Chaos, full of equal parts horror and mirth. Not that the Titaness has time to encourage Nyx to divulge her inner thoughts.

In any other circumstance, Rhea would feel ridiculous hiking up the goddess of night’s gown to catch a glimpse of what lies beneath. Unfortunately, such thoughts of embarrassment have no place when the state of the world is at stake. “I can see a head crowning, but something is preventing the babe from moving.” She lays her hands against the Primordial’s stomach. A beat passes before the Titaness purses her lips. “Nyx, do you have twins?”

“Fuck if I know,” she snorts. “At this rate, I might as well have birthed the Fates all over again.”

Rhea cranes her head. Silver glows at her fingertips. Her eyes alight with new revelations. “Wings—” She draws her hand away. “Nyx, I’ll have to—”

“Gods if I give a fuck,” the goddess retorts. “Do whatever you need to, Rhea.”

She sends a pointed glance at the nymphs. “Have those hands ready.” They crowd the floor at Nyx’s side.

Rhea takes a deep breath, tunneling her concentration. What follows is a small crack – barely audible over Nyx groaning in relief.

“My lady!” exclaims a nymph, in what Rhea hopes is astonishment at the sight of movement.

She takes Nyx by the hand. “It’s all you now.”

Pain from subsequent contractions tints the air red. “Breathe,” Rhea coaxes in the smoothest voice she can manage, recalling that it had brought Gaia comfort once. In truth, both Nyx and the earth goddess seem of similar stock, hardened from eons of toiling within the void.

“One more,” the Titaness whispers. She spares a tepid glance at the windows for any sign of sunlight. “One more and he’s free.”

Nyx’s gaze blackens. In a single fell swoop, Rhea feels the entire room being sucked of all air. Of course, she does not need oxygen to live. Rhea holds her breath anyway.

Say what she will about Nyx, the goddess does not scream or cry out through from her labor. In one instance, she even laughs until Rhea’s ears pop from a change in atmosphere. One nymph squeals, “My lady!”

There are no cries to signal the birth of a new god, only the sound of a wet load dropping into anxious hands. The babe switches hands quickly to be cleaned of filth and made presentable for his mother. Though even beneath the stain of ichor Rhea still catches sight of sharp, white wings.

Over their barely hidden whispers she hears, “Is he… sleeping?”

“That’s impossible.”

Ignoring the nymphs, Rhea manages a smile. “His wing must have gotten caught.”

The goddess of night snorts. “On what? My fucking pelvis?”

Rhea doesn’t respond as Nyx’s breath quickens again; no doubt the next babe ready to make his exit. This time, hopefully, with less trouble. Her irises pale and she nods. “Again,” Rhea commands.

Dutifully, Nyx follows her lead – a moment Rhea should cherish for all eternity since it is unlikely to ever happen again. She bears down with one final push. Like a dam bursting, the babe slips out in a mess of ichor. Rhea scrambles to catch him.

Nyx falls to the floor out of exhaustion, sighing, “Sweet Chaos.”

The soft wail released from Nyx’s second son rings out like a rasping choir of dying men. It lasts only for a moment until his abysmal eyes lock onto Rhea’s, leveling at her a deeply unsettling stare. Something tells her not to let this one leave her grasp. Unlike his brother, his wings are nearly as black as his mother's hair.

She holds him at a distance, to also be wiped down of ichor, before shuffling the twins to the collapsed goddess of night.

“Blessings to you, Lady Nyx,” the nymphs murmur in unison.

She sneers. “Some blessing. Because of these little bastards I nearly missed my deadline.” With more strength than Rhea could muster in a lifetime, Nyx rises to her feet, juggling both infants on either hip. Her dark eyes wander to the windows, finally noticing the first signs of sunlight peeking out from between the clouds. “Thank you, dear Rhea. I won’t forget this.”

Rhea bows as low as she can. “The honor was mine, my lady.”

Nyx sweeps out from the room on shaky legs, robes billowing out like smoke behind her. “May the birth of your child turn out much smoother than mine.”

She rests a hand on her own swollen belly and feels a twinge of movement beneath it. _Won’t be long now._

* * *

He is in Hyperion’s domain when he senses the rip in the universe. A power unrestrained seeping from some unknown crevice. It hits Kronos in his breast and he stops mid-conversation with his brother. “Do you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

The Titan Lord struggles to find the right words. The doors part open before he can make the attempt.

“My lord!”

Theia flutters in, a grown of white silk trimmed with gold flailing behind her like smoke. There are times she shines too bright – when her skin is so pale, her teeth blinding when she smiles, her entire body armed head to toe in shining jewels from different corners of his world – and the Titaness is a nightmare to look at. But Kronos cannot tear his eyes away from her, not as she says, “You must go to Othrys. Rhea—”

She need not even finish. His return is instantaneous.

A smiling Metis awaits him. “This way, my lord,” she says, face lit up with a joy he cannot empathize with. She tells Kronos of his wife’s state, but he barely hears her.

He can only feel, as he is led along, that nothing is as it should be. The rip in the world is stronger here. The power washes over him, settles him into submission. It is greater than he could ever be, so raw, so untamed. If he lets it, it will destroy him. He knows it will.

They enter Rhea’s chambers, where Kronos finds her resting atop their bed, eyes sagged and weary as if Ouranos’s sleeping curse has finally gotten the best of her. But it is her grin that makes him breathless, one he has never seen before, so peaceful and so serene.

“Kronos,” she whispers, ringing like a gentle sigh. “Come look.”

He does not recall telling his body to move. But in the next moment, he finds himself kneeling at her bedside, feeling such love radiating from her soul.

Kronos finds that rip in the universe, nestled between Rhea’s arms, suckling from her breast. A golden-flesh daughter so small he can lift her in one hand.

“She is perfect,” he says, because it is no lie. She is beautiful and perfect, and… dangerous. She is so dangerous he can hardly breathe.

_You never do listen, do you? _Ouranos’s ghost whispers in his ear from some unknown crevice. _I told you: you are doomed to suffer the same fate._

* * *

Her eyes glow like coals on a burning hearth. She smiles up at him and his frown only deepens.

She is no Titan.

He knew it in his heart from the very moment he laid eyes on Hestia, even if Rhea was too blind to notice. He has always known.

Hestia coos, her chubby hands reaching up to touch him. Kronos recoils. She is beautiful, far more beautiful than any Titan babe he's ever had the privilege of meeting. But that is not what disturbs him. Beneath the surface, it stirs— power beyond his wildest beliefs. A potent smell that burns the hairs along his nostrils.

She laughs at his expression, a laugh just like his wife's. Her presence is the same, like a gentle hand stroking away his paranoia.

_Perhaps if she were older, she could succeed._ No, she _would _succeed.

A better part of him would pay no heed and let the girl live out her days with Rhea. He is king of the cosmos and he need not let a woman – his own daughter – frighten him.

But, for the first time in his immortal life, Kronos wants to cry out to the ether, curse the ghost of his vengeful sire. He wants to pound his feet into the earth, cursing his mother too for not warning of such fate. For allowing Hestia to continue on no longer proves to be an option.

Kronos forces a smile. “There, there,” he tells Hestia, holding her tighter in his arms.

Still, the girl frowns, sensing a change in him. She knows something is wrong – so very perceptive, just like her mother.

His form ripples and frays. Her eyes widen in terror – a face to haunt him for eternity. Golden tendrils wrap around her, comforting at first, and then constricting, pulling her inwards toward a special kind of oblivion.

Kronos swallows her whole.

His energy comes together, once more forming the solid entity that is flesh. Kronos look at his arms, Hestia nowhere to be found. She's gone, gone, gone, wriggling inside of him like a little worm. Kronos prays she will die and fade away. But Hestia is immortal and his prayers have never once been answered.

A wind whips through his halls, smothering every lit brazier, candle, and hearth. Heavy silence follows and a chill he has not felt for some time. Not since Rhea first graced Mount Othrys with her presence.

Kronos sinks, cradles his face in his hands, unmoving atop his great obsidian throne. His daughter's face brands itself into his memory. _Rhea. _For what he’s done to her is beyond forgiveness.

Just thought of her summons her into existence, far sooner than he anticipated.

"Kronos?" says a tepid voice from the shadows, down the hall. Footsteps rush towards him. "Something is wrong. Hestia, where… where is—”

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of the scenes featured in this short fic are flashbacks from Defiance, only they've been modified or expanded to fit this standalone story. For anyone just looking to satisfy a Greek mythology itch, no knowledge of the Percy Jackson universe or a read-through of Defiance is required.


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